Bigger Circles
by Amicitia Revenant
Summary: Young Raphael wants to see some of the world, doesn't find what he was looking for, and ultimately gets much more than he expected. *Chibi chapter-fic.*
1. Prologue

**Prologue – Nucleus**

Not so far under the streets of New York, in a sealed-off passage that used to be a pedestrian walkway, four very unusual turtles are hard at work under the watchful eyes of their rat father.

"Done!" Raphael shouts. His pencil clatters down onto the table.

"Done!" Donatello calls an instant later, and tries to shove his paper in ahead of Raph's.

Splinter takes both papers at the same time, and looks them over. "Very good," he says. "You may go play."

Leonardo looks up from his work with jealous eyes, then taps his pencil against his beak and writes down another number.

"Can we go sit under the grate?" Raphael asks.

Splinter nods. Raph hops to his feet and pads towards the door.

Donatello leans over Mikey's shoulder, jabs his finger at one of the problems, and whispers, "It's an eight."

"Donatello!" Splinter says sharply. Donnie looks at him guiltily, then jumps up and follows Raph.

Michelangelo frowns and erases, leaving a big smudge over his work.

Raphael reaches up and opens the door, waiting while a dozen or so of the lair's resident rats troop in, then looking both ways before leading his younger brother out into the tunnels. The two Turtles splash along the passage until they reach the grating in the ceiling, under which they are permitted to sit quietly and absorb the sunlight that is so vital to their health.

They perch on the thick pipe running along the wall, and raise their faces to the warm light.

"Those problems were too easy," Raphael says.

"Way too easy," Donatello says, one-upping him.

"_Super_-easy," Raph says.

"As easy as - as..." Donatello struggles to think of a comparison that can't be gainsaid. "As holdin' your breath a long time."

Raphael is forced to concede. Not only is breath-holding really easy, Donnie is the best at it.

For a while they don't say anything.

"Y'ever wonder what's up there?" Raph asks, nodding up at the grate.

"People," Donnie says off-handedly. "Buildings. Cars."

"I mean," Raph says, before Donatello can list everything in New York, "d'you think it's like Sensei says?"

Donatello tilts his head and looks at him.

"Like..." Raph thinks for a minute. "D'you think all humans are nasty, like he says?"

Donatello raises his eyes thoughtfully.

"'Cuz," Raphael says, "all the mutants we know are nice people." He shifts. "Most of the time. So it'd be... it'd be weird if _all_ the humans aren't nice."

"I think we should go in now," Donatello says. He slides down from the pipe and looks at Raphael expectantly.

"You go," Raph says. "I'm gonna stay a few more minutes."

Donatello goes.

Raphael looks up at the grate, and wonders.

* * *

When Donatello returns, Splinter is patiently repeating his lesson on how to trade numbers from one column to another. He writes down a problem for Leonardo and Michelangelo to ponder, then looks up. "Where is Raphael?" he asks.

"He's coming in a minute," Donatello says. He steps out of the wash bucket and scuffs his feet on a towel.

Splinter nods, and encourages his less mathematically-gifted sons to work out the answer with bottle caps.

Half an hour later, Raphael has not come.

Splinter dismisses Leonardo and Michelangelo from their lesson, and leaves them to play with Donatello. He slips out of the lair, and quickly makes his way along to the grate.

Raphael is not there.

Not in the very small area he is allowed to explore on his own.

Splinter races back to the lair and snatches up the old raincoat he uses as a disguise. "Stay here," he orders the three startled Turtles, layering the command with as many dire overtones as he can manage. "Do not leave."

As he whirls on his coat, he notices a handful of rats watching him curiously. "[Look for my son!]" he shouts at them, as loudly as he can in the subtle language of his birth. "[Tell the whole colony to look!]"

Without pausing to see whether his instructions are being obeyed, Splinter rushes out into the sewers. He goes back to the square of sunlight, and inhales deeply, searching for Raphael's distinctive scent. _There._ He follows the trail to - _no_ - a ladder. He climbs rapidly, lifting the manhole cover and slinking out into the alley. The scent leads him to the edge of the sidewalk, where - _no!_ - it becomes muddled, mixed with smells that are not of his family. He tries to follow, keeping his head down and face covered, but it quickly becomes impossible.

He retreats to a shadowed corner, gathering his thoughts. He makes one more attempt, but Raphael's scent is a mere phantom now. He can't be sure whether it's real, or a product of his frantic imagination.

Everything in him wants to keep looking, but his search now will be random at best. He will not find Raphael this way, and will only put himself in danger.

He needs to go home, to protect his other sons, and form a plan.

He makes himself do it.


	2. Chapter 1

**Part One – The First Circle**

Chapter One

One hour earlier...

Raphael edged the manhole cover aside and crawled up into the alley. He set the heavy metal disk back in place, then went and crouched on the shadowed side of the narrow passage.

There were a _lot_ of humans out on the sidewalk. They were all different colors and sizes, wearing different clothes and carrying different things. Some walked fast, and some walked slow. Some walked together and some walked alone. Some of them were talking to each other, and some of them were talking to themselves.

Raphael watched, and waited for the right person. Some of the humans had angry faces, but most of them looked nice. He observed closely, and tried to pick out the nasty ones from the ones who didn't torture little kids for fun.

Finally, he marked a human with a slow walk, who wasn't talking to anybody. The human had dark clothes, and was carrying a kind of bag, and had a furry head and face.

"Psst!" Raphael hissed, when the human got close to his hiding place.

The human kept walking.

"Hey!" Raphael tried, a little louder.

The human paused, looking into the alley. Back and forth. And then, down.

The human's eyes got almost big enough to be normal.

"Hi," Raphael said. "Are you a nice human or a nasty human?"

The human's jaw dropped, slowly and to a remarkably low altitude.

"My name's Raphael," Raph offered.

"You… what?" the human said.

Okay, so it was a _stupid_ human.

"I need to find a nice human," Raphael said, very slowly.

"Do you need help?" the human asked. "I can take you to people who can help you."

"Okay," said Raph.

The human took off part of the dark clothes, and gave it to Raph. "Put this on."

The weight of the jacket took Raph by surprise. It seemed pretty stupid to wear something so heavy and awkward. Still, he accepted the gift and did what the human told him.

The human reached down and pulled the collar of the jacket up over Raph's head. "Come on."

Raphael took the human's hand, and allowed himself to be led out onto the sidewalk.

This wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

Splinter returns to the lair, walking across the tile floor as if in slow-motion, hanging up his coat as if in a trance.

"Where's Raphie?" Leonardo asks.

"I could not find him," Splinter says hollowly.

"But you're the best at findin' stuff," Michelangelo says.

"I am sorry." Splinter turns away, so his sons will not see the tears in his eyes. "I could not find him."

"But you gotta find him," Donatello says.

"I could not!" Splinter shouts.

There is a shocked silence.

"I am sorry," he says softly, and flees to his room.

* * *

Raphael follows the human up a flight of steps and into a building. He wants to look around, but it's hard to see with the coat over his head.

"Excuse me," says the human.

"Yes?" says another human.

"I found - er..."

There's a wooden creak. The jacket is lifted away, and Raphael looks up, blinking, to see a second human peering down at him from behind a desk. The second human is smaller than the first, darker, wearing blue clothes with shiny things on them.

"Sir," says the second human. "You can't bring your animals here."

"What animals?" Raph asks.

The second human sits down, very slowly, eliciting another drawn-out creak from the chair.

"I want to see the animals," Raph says.

The second human picks up something from the desk, and talks into it. "Sir, you'd better come see this..."

The humans keep staring at him, but Raphael ignores them, looking around the room. It's a big, shiny room, with stairs leading to doors that lead to places he'd like to know more about. The excitement of seeing new places mitigates his disappointment that there aren't any animals.

The back of his neck prickles, and he turns around to see a third human staring at him. The third human is bigger than the first, but with the same clothes as the second, and even more shiny things.

"What in the _world_..." says the third human.

"It talks," says the second human.

"I'm lookin' for the nice humans," Raph volunteers.

The third human startles. "What are you? How'd you learn English?"

"I'm real smart," Raph answers. "I didn't even have to study it."

The third human turns to the first human. "What is this? Where did you get it?"

"I was just walking down the street when it called to me from an alley." The human points. "Right down by 11th and 40th."

"I'm going to need your name and address," says the third human, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen.

"Woliczsky," the first human says, and spells it. "Robert." This is followed by some words and numbers that mean nothing to Raph.

"Thank you," the third human says to the first human. "We'll... take it from here."

The first human takes the coat and leaves, with just one backwards glance.

"Call the zoo," the third human says to the second human. "Somebody needs to tell me what the hell this thing is."

The second human picks up the thing on the desk again, and talks into it. The third human kneels down and waits for Raph to make eye contact.

"I'm Captain Strecht," the third human says.

"I'm Hamato Raphael," Raph says.

"Okay, Hamato," Strecht says. "What –"

"_Raphael_." Great. _Another_ dumb human. "You can call me Raph."

"Raph," Strecht says. "What _are_ you?"

Raph shrugs neutrally. Talking to humans to find out if they're nice is one thing. Telling a human his family's secrets is another thing entirely.

"They're sending someone," the second human says.

Raph is beginning to get bored. None of these humans are especially nasty. His point is proven, and it's beginning to seem like time to go home.

"I'm gonna go now," he says, taking a step towards the door.

"Hey, hold on there," says Strecht, grabbing Raphael's arm in a way Raph doesn't like.

"Lemme go!" Raph shouts. He tries to duck out of the hold, but the human is three times his size and way too strong.

"Hey, calm down," Strecht says, not loosening his grip. "Somebody is coming for you."

"Who?" Raph demands.

"A very nice human," Strecht says.

Raph stops struggling, and thinks. He hasn't really met a _nice_ human yet – just some neutral humans who seem willing to hurt him if he does anything they don't like. Okay. He's come this far. He may as well finish the job.

"Okay," he says. "I'll wait."

He sits down at the foot of the big wooden desk, and does just that.

* * *

"Are you a boy human or a girl human?" Raph asks, while he's waiting, because he's not very good at telling the difference.

Strecht looks surprised. "I'm a boy human." He points to the person behind the desk. "Officer Wheeler is a girl human. The person coming to see you is also a girl human." He looks at Raph. "What about you?"

"I'm a _boy_," Raph says. "_Duh._"

"But not a human?" Strecht asks.

Raph shuts his mouth, and doesn't answer.

A few minutes later, the doors open, and a medium-size human with funny brown clothes comes in. "Wow," says the human. "That's quite a critter you've got there."

Raph guesses that this is the Very Nice Girl Human he's been waiting for.

The Very Nice Girl Human shakes hands with Strecht. "Anne Biondi," she says. "What can I do for you?"

"For starters," says Strecht, "you can tell me just what _kind_ of critter I've got."

Anne crouches down and studies Raph. "That's a good question," she says. "I've never seen anything like it." She leans to the side. "Its posture says primate, but its physiology is more like a reptile. Sort of like a giant turtle."

Raph, who was looking absently across the room while the humans talked, turns towards her.

"It's almost like it understands me." She smiles. "Who put the scarf on its head?"

"It's a _bandana_," Raph says.

Anne gapes.

"Yeah," says Strecht. "It talks."

"O... okay," Anne stammers. "Are you sure it's an animal?"

"Hell if I know," Strecht says. "Can you take it?"

"Um," Anne says. "What would you do with it if I said no?"

Strecht lifts his hat and scratches his head. "I'm really hoping I don't have to figure that out."

"I guess I can take him," Anne says. "If he's not an animal, we'll pass him on to... more appropriate services."

"Thanks," says Strecht. "I owe you one."

Anne nods, and turns to Raph again. "Hey, little guy. How'd you like to go for a car ride?"

"Go where for one?" Raph asks.

Anne glances up at Strecht, but he only shrugs. "Why don't you come with me, and we'll go someplace fun?"

Raph eyes her warily. "Okay," he says. "But only for a little while."

"Good." Anne stands up and beckons to him. "Come on."

Raph follows her out of the building, leaving behind the humans in the blue clothes. Anne goes to a car and opens a door on the back, which swings up and becomes a little roof.

"Go on," Anne says, making a big gesture towards the car. "Hop in!"

Raph looks, and doesn't like it. The back of the car is all enclosed, and he can see bars. "No," he says firmly. "No cages."

Anne completely ignores him. "Up you get," she says, and grabs him around the middle.

"No!" he shouts, beating against her shoulders with his fists. When it's not effective, he delivers a palm strike to her nose. There's no power behind it, at such close range, but Sensei must have been right when he said humans hate being hit in the nose, because Anne drops him in a hurry.

She catches his arm before he can get away. "No!" he shouts again, but she has something in her hand and then there's a tiny pain in his arm and he's too small and suddenly so _tired_ and he can't get away...

A moment later he's unconscious.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Splinter stays in his room a long time, thinking.

He's interrupted by a tap on the door.

"Sensei!" Michelangelo whimpers. "I'm hungry!"

He doesn't reply, and after a while Michelangelo goes away.

Some time after that, Leonardo knocks. "Father!" he shouts through the door. "Mikey and Donnie are really hungry!"

He forces himself to get up and open the door. He makes dinner mechanically, opening cans, putting them in the fire, serving their contents onto chipped plates. He sends his sons to bed early, turns out the light, and sits in the solitary darkness, waiting for it to be late enough to go out.

* * *

Anne closes the door of the holding room, takes a moment to collect herself, and heads to the director's office.

"Come in," Noyes calls, when she knocks.

She leans into the room. "Just answered an animal control call."

"Not really my department," Noyes says.

"I know," Anne says. "But - well, I don't really know what it is."

Noyes levers himself up from the padded chair, and gestures for Anne to lead the way. "Call came from the police department," she says, as they walk down the hall. "I didn't ask where _they_ got it from." She slides open the panel of the observation window. "What do you think?"

The creature is lying on its side, curled away from them. "It looks like a big turtle," Noyes says.

"That's what I thought," says Anne. "But it's definitely no ordinary turtle. It walks on two feet, and it _talks_."

Noyes looks at her like she's completely lost her mind.

Anne holds up her hands. "I know," she says. "I'm way out of my depth on this one. But I think you should have your research people look at it."

"What did it say?" Noyes asks, a little belatedly.

"It names objects," Anne says. He wouldn't believe her if she mentioned that the creature did it in grammatical sentences, so she doesn't bother. "And it says _no_. I should warn you - it's aggressive when cornered. It hit me in the face when I tried to put it in the truck." She indicates her slightly-swollen nose.

Noyes nods. "I'll have Emily look at it."

"Thanks."

* * *

When Raphael wakes up, he's lying in a pile of straw in an otherwise empty room, and his head hurts.

The humans lied to him! They _lied_! The human in the brown clothes isn't nice at all, and now he's in a place that he doesn't believe for an instant will be fun, and he doesn't think they'll let him go when he says he wants to go home.

He gets up, goes to the door, and tries the knob. It won't turn. He paces around the perimeter of the room, but there are obviously no other exits. He sits down again in the straw and thinks about how much trouble he's in.

_Splinter is going to KILL me._

Then he wonders whether Splinter will even be able to _find_ him, and tears start to well up in his eyes, and he orders himself not to cry because he's a big boy and big boys don't do that.

He lies down again, and hopes that, at the very least, his headache will go away.

* * *

Noyes raps on the door and immediately lets himself in.

"Do you mind?" asks the woman holding the rodent and the big needle. "I'm extracting rat urine."

"New hobby for you," Noyes says, by way of introducing his topic.

Emily Thacker puts the rat back in its cage, and the needle on a sterile tray. "My card is full."

"Unknown species," Noyes says. "Reptilian. Talks, allegedly."

Emily raises a brow. "Imitates?"

"Maybe. Haven't seen it awake yet, myself."

Emily transfers the tray from the workcart to the gleaming steel countertop. "I'll have a look."

"Iso room three," Noyes says. "And be careful. It's a little aggressive."

Emily nods. Reptiles aren't her favorite, but for one that mimics speech she can make an exception.

* * *

Emily slides open the observation window, and peers into the iso room. The creature is lying in the straw, and she can't tell whether it's awake yet. She opens the door slowly, and goes in.

The creature sits up, and looks at her.

Emily closes the door behind her with a soft click. "Hi," she says, to see if this will elicit the stock greeting which is likely to be found in the repertoire of any mimicking animal.

Raph doesn't say anything. He's tired of talking to people who don't listen to him.

"Well, let's have a look at you," Emily says, in the calming voice she always uses on animals. She crouches down next to the creature, glancing at the floor first to be sure she's not about to sit where it soiled.

She reaches for the creature's face first, to look in its eyes - a good indicator of whether the sedative has fully worn off - but the creature recoils from her hand.

"Easy now," she murmurs, and reaches again.

Raph scoots away, out of the straw and into the corner. It's not a good place to defend himself from, but right now he doesn't have a lot of options.

"Okay," Emily says, sitting back on her heels. "Maybe you need a minute to get used to me."

Raph narrows his eyes. This human is weird. She - he thinks it's another girl human - has a lot of head fur and a white coat, and she seems to have all the time in the world to wait for a chance to hurt him.

"Hey, little guy," Emily says, watching the creature. "Are you hungry? How'd you like some food?"

Raph thinks. He _is_ hungry. And if the human is somewhere else getting food, then she isn't in here trying to hurt him.

"Yeah," he says.

Emily regards the creature. It's a good mimic, with a very human-like voice. Whether it had any idea what it was saying, remained to be seen.

"Okay," she says, standing up slowly. "I'll bring you some food." She emphasizes _food_, a word that animals quickly learn to associate with its meaning.

Raphael watches closely as the human leaves the room. She has something small, that she presses against the doorknob, and then the door opens. As soon as the door is closed again, Raph jumps up and tries to open it.

No good.

He sits down and waits to see if food will come.

* * *

Emily doesn't know what her new charge might eat, so she mixes a reptile standard: shredded vegetables with a generous sprinkling of protein pellets. It looks a little bland, so she adds a few slices of banana.

So far, the creature in iso room three doesn't seem too remarkable. It looks like a new species, which is interesting, but Emily's research area is cognition, and the creature hasn't yet done anything that demonstrates extraordinary animal intelligence.

She'll have to pull out her puzzle boards and brain toys, and see what kind of tricks the creature can learn.

And she'll need to rope a technician into handling its more... biological needs.

She takes the bowl of food and heads back to the iso room. She enters slowly, as before, approaches halfway to the creature, and sets the bowl down. "Here you go," she says, taking a step back and crouching down. "Some nice food."

Raphael reaches forward, snags the bowl with one finger, and pulls it toward him. It looks okay. "Itadakimasu," he mumbles, because if the humans are going to give him food then he's not going to be rude about it.

He eats the banana pieces first, and then starts working on the lettuce. He doesn't really like most of these vegetables, but years of hardship have taught him to eat food when it comes and not complain about it. The brown lumps, though, he doesn't touch, because he doesn't recognize them as anything good and bad food makes him sick.

"Hey," Emily says, when the bowl is mostly empty. "I guess you like it. I've gotta look at your eyes now." She scoots forward and reaches out.

This time, Raph lets her do it. He wonders why she didn't say earlier what she was trying to do.

"Looks good," Emily says, keeping up a steady stream of calming talk. "Didn't want to go in the truck, huh? Noyes says you got in a little fight." She takes the creature's arm and looks at the needle prick. "Were you lost? Where'd you come from?"

Raph can't figure out where this is going. The human seems to be mostly talking to herself. He decides not to interrupt her.

"So," Emily goes on. "Noyes says you're smart." She turns his hand over and looks at it. "I see you use your hands for things. You can use tools, maybe? I'll bring you some toys later."

This is getting better. Any human who brings him food and toys and doesn't poke him with sharp things might just be a nice human after all.

"Well," Emily says, scooching backwards and gesturing at the bowl. "I'll leave that and see if you want to eat the rest later." She glances around the room. "And we'll see about getting you a better environment." She backs to the door, then turns and unlocks it.

Raph watches her go, and wonders if maybe he should try talking to this one.

* * *

She's poring over the urinalysis printouts when Noyes lets himself in again.

"What do you think?" he asks.

Emily sighs and marks her place with a finger. "Some imitative language, some nonsense noises. Unusual for a reptile, but not especially remarkable among animals."

"Too bad," says Noyes.

"I'll try him on some toys, anyway," Emily says.

Noyes raises a brow. "Is it male? Or are you defaulting?"

"Defaulting," she says. "Somebody can try to sex it later, but I don't think they'll have much luck."

Noyes nods. "Well, good night."

"Good night."

As soon as Noyes is gone, Emily returns to studying the lines of data. Marked physiological changes following a complex learning task. Fascinating.

By the end of the day, the creature in iso room three has completely slipped her mind.

* * *

Near midnight, Splinter puts his coat on and slips out the door. In a moment he's back in the alley, concentrating fiercely on re-finding Raphael's scent. The trail is older now, but there are fewer humans to avoid, fewer humans layering their own scents over the one he's trying to follow, and his mind is clear from that first rush of panic. He takes his time, making sure of the way.

The trail leads him to a building, and disappears under the door. He looks up to read the words on the facade.

NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT

He determines to find a way in. He knows what POLICE are, knows that this is incredibly foolish and dangerous, but he won't return home empty-handed a second time.

He shimmies up a drainage pipe, peers in a window, and quickly ducks below the sill. There are still humans inside. He creeps around to a different window, through which he can see no humans, and pries it open just enough to stick his nose inside.

Humans. Dirt. Wood. Paper. Dark smells he doesn't recognize. A very, very faint whiff of his son.

He closes the window, climbs to the roof and crosses over it, carefully picks his way down the brickwork on the opposite side of the building. He finds a good set of holds and cracks open the nearest window to sniff again.

The scent of Raphael is no stronger here. Raphael _was_ in this building, but he is not anymore.

Splinter works his way down to the ground and begins sniffing around the perimeter of the building, paying particular attention to the exits. The only strong smell of his son is at the front door, and the trail goes nowhere except back the way he came.

He stays a moment, thinking furiously, but there is nothing more he can do.

He searches the sidewalk one more time, with eyes and ears and nose, but there are no clues to where his son went, or was taken.

There is nothing more he can do.

* * *

When he enters the lair, his sons are crying.

"Shh." He pads across to the side chamber that serves as their bedroom, finds them in the dark. "It is all right. I am here."

"Leo called me bad names!" Donatello reports.

"You deserved it!" Leonardo shoots back. "You lost Raphie!"

"I did not!"

"You did too!"

"I did no-ot!"

"Silence!" Splinter says, a little louder than necessary. "Leonardo, do not yell at your brother. Donatello should not have let Raphael stay out alone, but it is not your place to punish him."

"But it's his fault Raphie is gone," Leonardo says.

"And _I_ will punish him accordingly," Splinter replies. "Now go to sleep. I do not want to hear any more crying."

Michelangelo hiccups, obviously trying to cry below the threshold of his father's acute hearing.

"Good night," Splinter says.

"Good night," his sons say, in subdued voices.

He goes to his room, and tries to sleep.

* * *

Translation Notes

_Itadakimasu_ – Roughly, "thanks for the food".


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Raphael sleeps, and wakes, and his time-sense tells him it's morning of the next day.

He really needs the bathroom.

He gets up and walks around the room, but there's no toilet, no drainage channel, not even a hole in the floor. Also, the door is still locked.

He leans against the wall, and tries to hold it in.

* * *

"Has anybody fed the little guy in iso room three yet?" Emily asks the chief technician, as she shrugs into her lab coat and runs through the list of things she needs to do today.

"Not yet," is the reply, the tech barely slowing down as they pass each other in the hallway.

Good. Animals are much more motivated to solve the puzzle toys if they're hungry.

Emily stops by her office, picks up a box of equipment, and lugs it to the kitchen to fill the toys with small bits of appetizing food. She carries the box to the iso room, works the doorknob with her elbow, and lets herself in.

"Good morning, little guy," she says, putting the box down and toeing the door closed behind her. She notices that the leftover pellets from last night are still untouched. _No, huh? I'll have to find a different protein source._ She bends over, takes a toy from the box, and rolls it across the floor. "What do you think of that, huh?"

Raph looks at her, then at the strange lump of clear, orange-tinted plastic. He picks it up, studies it momentarily, pulls out the peg, pops off the lid, shakes the grapes into his hand, and eats them.

"Wow," Emily says. "You _are_ smart." She takes another toy from the box, approaching the creature slowly with it and sitting down beside him. She offers him the toy, and he takes it.

This one is blue, and he can't see through it. He starts shifting the components around, to see what it does. He wonders if there's more food inside.

He remembers his earlier thoughts, and decides to see whether this human can be a friend.

"What's your name?" he asks, without looking up.

Emily tilts her head and considers the creature. His imitations are very clear. She wonders if he's attempting to interact by repeating something he memorized, or just making noise while he tries to get at the food, or if maybe he has some idea what he's saying. She decides to answer. "I'm Dr. Thacker," she says.

"I'm Raphael," says the creature.

Hm. Maybe he belonged to someone, who called him "Raphael" and taught him this exchange. Or maybe he just overheard someone named "Raphael" introducing himself, and learned to mimic the sounds.

"I gotta tell you something," Raphael says. (She may as well call him that. It's as good a name as any, even if he's never been called it before.)

"What?" she asks, to see how far the conversation will go.

His hands still on the toy. "I gotta go toilet."

Okay. Now she _knows_ he's just mimicking. He obviously doesn't really want to use a toilet. Animals don't do that.

"I really gotta go toilet," Raphael says, looking up at her. "Take me to the bathroom, please."

Whoever owned him must have also had a child in potty-training.

"Okay," Emily says, standing up. "Let me get you some breakfast."

"Not _breakfast_," Raph says, in exasperation. This human is as dumb as the others. "_Toilet_. I'm gonna have an accident."

If nothing else, this creature has a very good memory. This might be interesting after all.

Emily leaves the room and heads to the kitchen. She mixes up another bowl of vegetables, this time layering on apple slices instead of banana, and tossing in some cut-up fish.

When she returns to the iso room, there's a yellow puddle in the corner.

"Told you," says Raphael.

* * *

"Sensei!" Leonardo shouts through the door. "It's time for training."

There is no reply from within.

Leo knocks harder. "Sensei, come on!"

"He's not coming," Mikey says.

"Maybe we can take today off?" Donnie asks hopefully. The threat of punishment is hanging heavily over him, and he's only too willing to delay Splinter's wrath.

Leo considers. "Okay," he says grudgingly. "But only one day!" He pads over to the area designated as the kitchen, his brothers following. "Gimme a boost," he instructs Donatello.

Donnie baskets his hands. Leo steps into them and balances carefully while he rummages around in the high shelves.

"I want the chocolate one!" Mikey says.

"You can't have the chocolate one," Leo says sharply. "Chocolate cereal is for dessert, not for breakfast." He snags a box of boring, grown-up type cereal, and hops down. He pops open the box, unrolls the bag inside, and offers it to his brothers before taking some for himself.

They stand around, eating handfuls of the cereal.

In his room, Splinter lies in bed.

Raphael has been missing for more than twelve hours now, and Splinter has no idea where to begin looking for him. He has questioned the rats, every one that has passed through his room, but none of them have had anything to report.

He will go out later, search the city, hope against hope to find a clue, a trail, some trace of where his son has gone.

The odds are high that he will once again return home empty-handed. It's possible that, even now, Raphael is no longer living.

He will go anyway. As soon as it is safe.

If the waiting doesn't kill him first.

* * *

The door to Noyes' office is open, so Emily goes straight in and sits down.

"Couple of things about my new assignment," she says.

Noyes is only too glad to take a break from grant paperwork. "Go for it."

"First," she says, "we need to put him someplace else. He's an inquisitive little guy and the iso room is going to be like a sensory deprivation chamber for him."

"How about the old gorilla enclosure?" Noyes suggests.

Emily nods. "Fine. Second thing - he's a new species, unless I've missed a major development in taxonomy. I'm not sure how to classify him. He looks like a reptile on the outside, but the way he moves suggests a mammalian skeletal system."

"One step ahead of you," says Noyes. Emily looks at him quizzically. "Species name. How do you feel about _Megachelos alonzi_?"

She raises a brow. "'Alonzo's Giant Turtle'? How many species do you already have named after you?"

"Only two," he protests. "Downsides of having a cushy desk job. Believe it or not, most new species are discovered out in the wild."

Emily considers her boss. He's on the descending curve of middle age, and something of that curve has transferred itself to his waistline. "Somehow I can't imagine you out in the wild."

"Hey," says Noyes. "I was young and adventurous once. Briefly." He clears his throat. "Was there anything else?"

"One more thing," says Emily. "Do you want to get Noah involved? You know he loves this kind of thing."

Noyes rubs his forehead. "I know. That's why I don't want him anywhere near it."

"How long do you think we can keep him from noticing? He does walk away from his computer _occasionally_."

Noyes grimaces. "Tell me what else you've learned about the creature."

"He's incredibly fast with toys," she says. "Also, he mimics a lot. And, I'm not sure yet, but he might repeat things that are relevant to his current needs."

"Interesting."

"I'm going to call him Raphael," she says abruptly, making it official. She stands up. "I have to go test my rats."

"Emily," Noyes says, just as she reaches the door. "You want Noah? Bring him in. But if he starts rambling, _you_ have to listen to him."

She pauses with her hand on the knob. "Deal."

* * *

The day passes slowly.

Raphael solves the blue toy, and eats the nuts inside.

A human he doesn't recognize comes in, cleans up his mess, shoos him out of the straw to exchange the old pile for a new one, and leaves without saying a word.

He plays with the other toys from the big plastic bin, leaving them scattered around the room as he finishes with them.

He picks at the bowl of vegetables.

He wonders if the humans have a way of watching him without him being able to see them.

In the afternoon, by his time-sense, Dr. Thacker comes. "What a mess you made!" she says in a cheerful way that doesn't make any sense. "Looks like you had fun with these." She scoops up a toy and tosses it in the box. "Let's get these picked up, and then some techs are going to come move you to a place you'll like better."

Raph picks up the toy closest to him and throws it into the box. It's far, but he's always had good aim. The toy clatters in with the others.

"Aren't you smart," Emily says. "You'll definitely like the new enclosure better." She picks up the box, fumbles with the doorknob, and lets herself out.

Raph doesn't know what _techs_ are, or an _enclosure_.

This room is bad, but it could definitely be worse.

He tries not to get his hopes up.

* * *

Noah DeVry is staring intently at his computer monitor, absorbed in an article about fossils found in unexpected places. In a corner of the screen, the SETI analysis is ticking away.

There's a knock at the door, and he tears his eyes from his reading. "Come in!"

Emily enters, and glances around the cluttered, paper-strewn space. If someone managed to get into this office without passing through the surrounding building, they would never guess that DeVry's work had anything to do with animals.

"What's up?" he asks.

"I have a new species in iso room three," Emily says bluntly. "In a minute I'm going to knock him out and move him to the old gorilla enclosure. If you want samples, now would be the time."

"Do I ever _not_ want samples?" DeVry asks rhetorically. Indeed, his office is full of tiny vials and printouts of DNA analyses. "I'll be right there."

* * *

Raph's worst fears are confirmed when two humans in brown clothes come into the room, hold him down, and stab him in the arm with the same thing Anne had.

His last thought, before he passes out, is that he can't trust anybody.

"What do you think it is?" asks one of the techs.

"It's an animal," says the other. Dennis Dixter has been doing this a long time, and all the romance has gone out of it. "It eats, it poops. Everything in between is for the white-coats to worry about."

The white-coat called Dr. DeVry meets them at the entrance to the gorilla enclosure.

"Oh, wow," says DeVry. He points to a spot on the floor. "Put it over there."

Dennis rolls his eyes. As though he needs a guy with multiple degrees to tell him how to do his job.

The techs lower the creature to the floor, and its limbs fall limply against the concrete.

DeVry kneels and efficiently takes a blood sample and a mouth swab. He holds the little vial of blood up to the light. "Can't wait to see what kind of secrets are in _here_." He gathers up his equipment and hurries out.

Dennis crosses the room and hauls open the door to the exercise yard. "Little fresh air ought to bring it around."

The first tech nods and dusts off her hands. "Well," she says. "Time to muck out the elephant house."

* * *

Splinter makes dinner silently, without looking at his sons. He leaves the food on the table, not even bothering to put out plates and utensils, and returns to his room.

He doesn't take any food for himself. He can't eat, can't sleep, can't focus on anything except doing everything he can to find Raphael.

And right now, _everything_ is painfully close to _nothing_.

* * *

Raphael wakes up on a hard, grey floor. His head hurts again and he's furious.

It sucks to be small! Being an awesome ninja doesn't count for anything when everybody is bigger than you and can make you fall asleep. He should've believed Splinter, and not gone investigating. At least, he should have waited until he was big enough to beat up humans.

He sits up and looks around the room. It's bigger than the other room, and full of stuff that looks like the training equipment Splinter sometimes builds. The sprawling jungle gym even has a big car tire hanging from a rope, and Raphael is sure that, if he was in a mood for games, he could come up with a lot of fun ways to play with a thing like that. Near one wall is a kind of free-standing tunnel, round, red, high enough for him to stand up in and long enough for two of him to stretch out end to end.

A breath of air catches his attention. He turns his head, and - _there's a door! _

_To the outside!_

He gets up as fast as he can, and runs out. _Escape!_ There's dirt, grass, trees, sky, even a little pond... and big walls, and a net where the ceiling would be.

Raph goes around the walls, but there's no way out. He even manages to climb up and clamber around on the net, but he can't break it with his weight or his strength.

_Wrong again._ The human he thought could be a friend – Thacker – is just as mean as the others. She wasn't even brave enough to fight him herself. Instead she sent two other humans to gang up on him and attack him with the sleep-dagger. Now he's in another room, like she promised, but it's not any _better_. It may be bigger, and have a thing to climb on, and be open to the sky, but it's still a cage.

Raphael reclassifies Thacker under _enemy_ and resolves not to talk to her anymore.

He returns to the middle of the yard and sits in the dirt.

The day is warm and sunny, but he can't enjoy it.

He looks up at the sky and wonders how far from home he is.

No one comes for the rest of the day, except that a brown-clothes human opens the door to slide in another bowl of food.

Raph ignores it, and sits in the yard until it begins to get dark. Then he goes inside and curls up in a corner.

Later he gets up and climbs into a kind of fabric thing that's suspended between two upright parts of the wooden structure. He falls asleep in it, and dreams that he's lying cradled in his father's arms.

* * *

As soon as it's fully dark, Splinter goes out. Racing across the roofs, his senses wide open, he ranges over much of the city - Manhattan is not very big, after all.

He crisscrosses the neighborhoods, straining to catch Raphael's scent in the muddle of New York smells. A thousand possibilities, each one worse than the last, flash through his mind.

_Stop this!_ he chides himself. _It will not help you find Raphael!_

He forces the thoughts aside and pushes himself onward across the light-spangled island.

He searches for hours, as the stars wheel slowly across the sky and the moon rides stately across the backdrop of constellations. When the eastern sky begins to turn pink, he points his steps homeward.

He creeps back into the sewers just as the sun is beginning to rise, his heart completely crushed, and none the wiser about Raphael's fate.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

When Emily walks into her office the next morning, she is not pleased to find a memo from Noyes on her desk.

_Called Times. Reporter coming tomorrow re: Raphael._

She snatches up the note and stalks to her boss's office. Noyes has clearly just gotten in. His lab coat is half-on and his inbox is overflowing with yesterday's unfinished work.

"Thanks a lot, Al," she says, throwing down the slip of paper. It completely misses the desk, and flutters to the floor in a decidedly undramatic fashion.

"You're going to have to give me a better lead-in," Noyes says, after a quick mental shuffle fails to reveal what Thacker might be annoyed about.

Emily bends down quickly, sweeps up the note, and plants it firmly on the desk. "_I'm_ in charge of Raphael. That means _I_ have to talk to the reporter."

Noyes raises his brows.

"I _hate_ reporters."

Noyes pulls on the other sleeve of his lab coat and sits in the chair, swiveling it towards the desk and rolling it forward. "I'm sorry, Emily. New species are worth a lot of money. I need you to make it look good."

"We don't even have DNA confirmation yet," Emily reminds him.

"That's why I told them to come tomorrow," Noyes says smoothly. "Noah should have all his test results by then. If it turns out to be a false alarm -" He makes a dismissive gesture. "We can cancel."

"So," Emily says, pinching the note between her fingers and reading it from arm's-length. "By _tomorrow_, you meant tomorrow from when I got this, not tomorrow from when you wrote it."

"Right," says Noyes. "Tomorrow from today. So you have plenty of time to get ready."

She gives him a withering glare. "You are _so_ thoughtful." She crumples up the note and stuffs it in her pocket. "I'd better go find out what else he knows, so I can give the journalist a _full report_."

"Try to be nice to him!" Noyes calls after her, as she storms out. "The reporter, I mean!"

Emily rolls her eyes in disgust. She didn't spend six years living on pizza and ramen to get a doctorate in being _nice_.

* * *

"Sensei!" Leonardo shouts, knocking as loud as he can. "We gotta have training today!"

Splinter doesn't move. How can he face his sons? He isn't fit to call himself their father. He will see to their basic needs, and no more. He doesn't deserve their love, if he can't bring their brother back.

Leo gives up knocking, and walks away from the door.

"He won't come out?" Mikey asks.

"Never mind that," says Leo. "I'll be in charge of training today."

"Why you?" Mikey challenges.

"'Cause I'm the oldest," says Leo. "And after that, Donnie can be in charge of school."

Donnie looks surprised. "Why me?"

"'Cause you're the smartest," Leo says matter-of-factly.

"No I'm not," says Donnie. "Raph is."

"Well," Leo says, as authoritatively as he can, "Raphie's not here now, so... you're the smartest."

"When is Raphie coming back?" Mikey asks softly.

"When... when..." Leo frowns. "Don't ask questions! Do your warm-up!"

Michelangelo and Donatello start their exercises, while Leonardo yells at them about everything they're doing wrong.

* * *

After eating a little and doing his business - thank goodness this room has a grate in the floor - Raphael climbs up to the highest part of the structure, and perches there. He's pretty sure he's too high for any humans to reach, and if they try to climb up, he can kick them in the face.

He thinks about the exercise yard, making a picture of it in his mind and trying to see how he can get out of it. There _must_ be a way. It's not even a proper room. If he can't figure out how to escape from a room with holes in the ceiling, then he isn't smarter than Donatello after all.

If only he had a weapon, something with a blade, then maybe he could cut a bigger hole in the netting, and climb out. Maybe he could steal something sharp from the humans. Like the sleep-dagger they keep sticking in his arm.

Raph nods to himself. He can do it, if he stays alert. He may not be as strong as a human, but he has some good sleight-of-hand tricks that ought to fool them.

He adjusts his bandana.

_Ninja time._

* * *

As soon as Emily has seen to her rats, she hauls a box of language-eliciting toys out of her office closet, and heads to the gorilla enclosure.

Raphael is sitting up on the play structure, watching her.

"Hey there, little guy," she says cheerfully. "Why don't you come down from there? I brought you some more toys to play with."

Raph looks at her coldly. He really wants nothing to do with her, but he doesn't yet know any ninja tricks for stealing from someone without getting near them. He'll have to pretend they're still friends. He climbs down and, when she sits, he settles cross-legged in front of her.

"Okay," Emily says, dragging the box a little closer and pulling out a small object. "Let's see what words you know." She shows him the brightly-painted wooden cube. "What's this, Raphael? What's it called? What name?"

Raph doesn't answer. A cube won't help him escape.

"What name, Raphael?" Emily asks again. When he doesn't respond, she prompts him. "It's a block. Block, Raphael."

Raph can't figure out what Thacker is trying to do. This reminds him of Splinter's school lessons, but it's way too easy. He learned what _blocks_ were years ago. He wonders if it's a kind of test.

"Say it, Raphael," Emily encourages. "Say _block_."

Raph remembers other lessons Splinter taught him: how to conceal your thoughts, how to misdirect someone else's attention, how to achieve your goal before the other person realizes you've moved. All at once, he sees that Thacker is exposing a weakness: she doesn't have good focus. All he has to do is keep her engaged in these silly questions, and watch for something worth stealing.

"Block," Raph says.

"Good job!" Emily cheers. "What color is it, Raphael? What color?"

"Red," he says. He can't imagine why this is so fascinating to her, but he sets the problem aside and focuses on his goal.

"What's this?" Emily asks, putting down the block and holding up another object. "What name, Raphael?"

"A stick," he answers. He'll talk just until he gets what he wants, and then he'll stop talking, like he decided earlier. Splinter always says that the victorious warrior is the one who is willing to change his plans. Sensei is going to be so proud of him.

"What color?" Thacker is asking, and "Green," Raph answers quickly.

"Good job," Emily says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls a cube of dried pineapple from the baggie there. "Here you go."

Raph takes the pineapple and sticks it in his mouth, but out of the corner of his eye he's watching what her _other_ hand is doing. What else is in the box?

Thacker pulls out a handful of small objects and spreads them on the floor. "How many, Raphael?" she asks. "What number?"

"Four," he says, around the sticky fruit.

"That's right," she says. "Now - how many _blocks_? How many _blocks_, Raphael?"

"Two," he replies. The other two are plastic rings.

"Good job," Thacker says again. She reaches into the box and pulls out a stack of picture cards. She flips through them, then flicks one up and shows it to Raph. "What's this? What's it a picture of?"

Raph looks at the picture. "Dog."

"That's right." She turns over another card. "What's this?"

"Ball," Raph says. He begins to wonder how long this will go on.

"It's a ball," Thacker repeats. "Do you want a ball, Raphael? Do you want to play with a ball?"

Raphael is taken aback by this bizarre question. Splinter never lets them play with toys during lessons, and Thacker didn't say the lesson was over... It must be some kind of trick. "No," he says.

Emily looks at Raphael thoughtfully. Someone must have spent a lot of time teaching him all this. He's certainly on par with the most intelligent animals she's read about, and most of those had _years_ of training.

Thacker's attention is in the wrong place. Raph needs to redirect her, and quickly, before he loses his opportunity. He pushes the red block and the green stick over to the other two blocks and the two rings. "Six," he says. "Three blocks."

"That's right," says Emily. She pushes the box forward a little. "What do you want to play with?"

Raph leans forward and peers into the box. There's a jumble of stuff, but none of it is sharp. He can't see anything that will help him escape. He picks out a stuffed cat and pretends to be fascinated with it.

"The kitty, huh?" says Emily. "You like other animals?" She begins sweeping up the small objects with her hands. "Maybe we can find a friend for you."

When she leans over to dump the things back in the box, Raph takes his chance to pick her pocket. He hides the crumpled-up piece of paper under his leg, and goes back to playing with the stuffed cat as though nothing has happened.

When Thacker picks up the box and leaves the room, Raph continues to sit quietly, listening to her footsteps fade away down the hall.

As soon as she's out of hearing, Raphael drops the cat, palms the paper, and clambers back up to his perch. He manages to get the wad untwisted, and is rewarded with words.

Unfortunately, most of them are hard to read.

The last one, though, is definitely his name.

* * *

Emily puts the box away absently. Something about Raphael is troubling her: the way he sits, the way he uses his hands, the way he played with the stuffed animal.

Exactly the way a _human_ would do it.

She shakes her head.

Apes and monkeys show the same behaviors. Raphael is not a human. He's a reptile who, inexplicably, shows many primate traits.

Inexplicably, that is, until she does her job and explains it.

She frowns, realizes she's still standing in the closet, and goes to her desk. She shuffles through the papers there, but doesn't really see them. Something _else_ is bothering her.

The way he talks. The way he sails through all her tests of cognition.

Animals can do these things. But very few do it spontaneously, and none can pass those kinds of tests without observing the pattern of question and response.

Raphael could only have learned those answers by being in contact with humans.

Humans who, probably, want him back.

She hurries to Noyes' office.

"Come in," he says, in response to her knock. "What is it?" he asks, when she enters.

"About Raphael," Emily says. "I was giving him some more tests and -"

"Yes?" Noyes asks impatiently.

"He can name objects and colors, count, sort, and recognize photographs," Emily summarizes. She shifts. "Al - Someone obviously spent a lot of time teaching him all this. They must be missing him."

"And if anyone sees the newspaper article and comes to claim him, we will compensate them for their animal," Noyes says.

"I don't feel like it's right to go around exposing Raphael to the media," Emily says. "I have to assume that his owner doesn't want everyone to know about him, or… everyone would know."

"I really don't think that's their choice," says Noyes. "You can't go around willfully withholding this kind of discovery."

"I just think we should respect their wishes," Emily says.

"Emily, please." Noyes rubs his forehead. "Zoos don't make money from animals owned by other people. Do not make a big deal out of this. Just talk to the reporter."

"I'm not saying this so I can dodge a reporter!" Emily retorts. "I really think -"

"Emily." Noyes waits for her to calm down a little. "Do you understand what we have here? We can't just give away a new species, a highly intelligent one, because you feel bad that someone lost their pet." He looks at Emily's tight face, and relents a little. "I promise you, I will be more than fair to Raphael's previous owner."

"And to Raphael," Emily says.

"And to Raphael," Noyes says, "if he has the emotional capacity for separation anxiety."

Emily crosses her arms. "He stays under my care."

"I thought you didn't like reptiles?" Noyes asks. Emily's mouth draws a fraction thinner. "Fine. Done."

Good. She'll oversee his handling, make sure that his diet is right and he gets enough stimulation, secure visitation rights for his owner.

Raphael will not suffer.

* * *

Raphael spends most of the afternoon trying to decipher the words on the paper. The handwriting is awful, but that's not surprising, since humans have too many fingers, which must get in the way when they try to hold a pencil. His lips move soundlessly as he works out what all the letters are.

He reads the words under his breath, because he doesn't know whether the humans are spying on him, and he's not going to let them find out that _he's_ spying.

Laboriously, he sounds out the syllables, and tries to match them to words he knows. It comes slowly, and he's not sure he's right. What does it mean to "call time"? Is it like telling time? What time are they referring to?

The second part makes more sense. He understands what "coming tomorrow" means, and he knows what a _reporter_ is.

A reporter is someone who tells on you.

Well, they're not going to tell on _him_. 'Cause they're not going to catch him doing anything.

He's not going to talk to Thacker, and he's not going to talk to any reporters either. He's not going to talk to _anybody_.

Raphael goes outside and tears up the note into tiny pieces. He throws the pieces into the pond. He watches them disintegrate.

He wanders around for a while, seeing if any of the little rocks in the yard look sharp enough to cut the netting. None of them do. He takes the sharpest and tries to use it to whittle a stick, but it doesn't work very well and all he gets is a slightly whiter stick. He leans back against a tree and watches the sun go down.

When the stars start to come out, he goes back inside and climbs into the hammock.

After a while, he gets up and retrieves the stuffed cat. He curls up with it hugged to his chest, and tries to pretend it's one of his brothers.

* * *

Splinter sits on the roof of a building, the cold reflected sunlight casting everything in silver.

He doesn't know why he's out here. He will not find Raphael now, unless some miracle should occur to tell him where to look.

He rests back against the low circling wall, and tries to reason away his self-hatred.

He is a good father. It is a testament to his strength and will that he kept his children safe for seven long years. They live a precarious existence, and he could easily have lost his sons to illness, injury, or starvation, if not human malevolence.

_He should not have let them go out alone._

Splinter calms his breathing. He must let this go. He must return home, take care of himself, be a father to his remaining sons.

He imagines himself doing it, _wills_ himself to do it, but his will fails and he slumps against the brick parapet.

He has not lost everything. He still has three sons, still has a chance to see them to adulthood, to watch them grow into strong young men who can look after themselves in this world of darkness and danger.

When the dawn comes, he will go home. He will go through the motions of raising his sons.

But it will be a long time before he lets himself get close to them, as he was before.

Love, and loss, are too painful.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Splinter lies in bed, listening to his sons argue in increasingly loud tones. His nerves, already raw from lack of sleep and self-recrimination, are rapidly unravelling, and he grits his teeth against the screaming.

"Mikey, put that back! We gotta do training first!"

"But Master Splinter still won't come out of his room! We can't do training without him!"

"We can so! I'll be in charge!"

"Why do _you_ get to be in charge?"

"I told you yesterday, 'cause I'm the oldest! Go do your warm-up!"

"That's not fair! You put Donnie in charge of school 'cause he's smartest, you should put me in charge of training 'cause I'm best!"

"You are not!"

"I am too!"

"You are _not!_"

Splinter springs out of bed and throws open the door. "Enough!" he roars.

Michelangelo drops the box of cereal. Chocolate puffs scatter across the floor. A waste of valuable food, and Splinter has been too distracted to scavenge for more.

"_I_ will be in charge of training," Splinter says, striding into the middle of the room. "Begin your warm-up. Where is your brother?"

"I'll get him," Michelangelo says, and runs to the bedroom.

Leonardo makes as if to start his stretches, then pauses. "Sensei -" he ventures. "Why are you hiding all the time? Why don't you find Raphie?"

"I told you to begin your warm-up," Splinter says. He glances at Michelangelo and Donatello as they quietly go to their places, then turns to clean up the spilled cereal while they work through their exercises. Usually food that falls on the floor becomes the prerogative of the rats, but Splinter is too angry to leave it for them. The agreement was that he would give the colony shelter, give them his family's leftover food, and in return they would be his eyes and ears, warning him of danger, telling him where to find useful items. But they have not held up their end. They have not helped him protect what is most valuable to him, have not found the one thing he is desperately searching for. They do not deserve his hospitality. He throws the puffs in the garbage, puts the box up on the highest shelf, and turns around to survey the lair.

It is a disaster. Splinter sets to work cleaning up the accumulated mess of three days. His sons have not picked up their toys, and the floor is covered in dirt.

He realizes that the filth is his own – he has been neglecting to wash his feet when he comes in from the tunnels. He does it now, going to the bucket and scrubbing the encrusted grime out of his fur, from under his claws and between his toes.

This done, Splinter grabs a rag and begins wiping up the floor. Some of the dirt is still fresh and damp, some is dry and trodden in. His sons will need to wash their feet as well. And he will need to find a way to wash his blankets. He will have taken this filth into his bed with him.

When he is finished, he throws the rag in the garbage – he does not have the patience to wash that as well; it will be easier to just find another. By this time his sons have had an unusually long warm-up, and have apparently started a second round of their exercises.

"Kneel," Splinter orders them, and they do. "Now. Since you are so eager to prove who is the best, we will spar. Leonardo. Donatello. Stand."

"But I didn't -" Donatello starts.

"_Stand!_"

They hop to their feet and face each other in the middle of the floor.

"Begin."

Leonardo and Donatello bow, then fly at each other with three days' worth of pent-up energy and frustration. Their sparring is more like a playground fight, little more than a flurry of strikes from both sides, mixed with some graceless dodging and blocks that only serve to expose more vulnerable targets. If they fought like this in a real battle, they would be killed.

A logjam of instructions and corrections builds up in Splinter's mind, and he doesn't know who or what to address first. Before he can decide, Leonardo and Donatello draw back, regard each other for a moment, and reengage with something much closer to the balanced, skillful style he taught them. There are still mistakes, flaws, bad choices and poor executions. But at least one can recognize _something_ of the secret arts.

At this stage of their training, his students are rarely able to end a sparring match conclusively. They simply compete until they are tired, and then agree to stop. This agreement is a strictly enforced rule in Splinter's dojo. When a fighter requests a _yield_, the battle is over.

"Yield?" Leonardo asks, when the sparring match has petered out to a half-hearted exchange of simple blocks and strikes.

"Yield," Donatello says.

They both step back, bow to each other, bow to the sensei, and return to their places on either side of Michelangelo.

Michelangelo, for his part, is kneeling on the sideline, watching Splinter apprehensively. Usually he spars with Raphael, whose strength and enthusiasm are a good match for the youngest's sheer athletic ability. Now, with Raphael absent, he is clearly expecting to spar against his master, and it is apparent to everyone that Splinter is not in a gentle mood.

"Michelangelo," Splinter says, and the named son tenses in readiness to spring up. "Spar with Donatello."

Donatello looks up in surprise. "Why do I have to spar twice?" he complains.

"Because you do not think you are the best," Splinter says sharply, "and so you obviously need more practice."

"Come on!" Michelangelo says, bouncing to his feet. "Spar with me!"

Donatello gets up more slowly, and takes the floor again. It is clear, as soon as the contest begins, that he is hopelessly outmatched. He is not as good as Michelangelo to begin with, and he is already tired from his frenzied attacks against Leonardo.

"Come on, bro!" Michelangelo teases, as he effortlessly gains ground. "Come and get me! I'm wide open!"

Donatello tries a chest strike, but Michelangelo blocks him and counters to his opposite elbow.

"Too slow!" Michelangelo laughs. He dances around while Donatello clumsily reorganizes his footwork. "Come on! Snap kick!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" Donatello retorts. He launches a double punch, but his center is all wrong and Michelangelo simply ducks under the attack and spins into a leg-sweep that brings Donatello crashing heavily to the floor.

"Fine!" Donatello shouts. "Yield!"

Michelangelo immediately backs off, and waits for Donatello to get up before making his bows. "You did good," he says reassuringly, as they take their seats.

"I did not," Donatello says.

"Donatello," Splinter says, and his middle son – his _only_ middle son, now – looks up. "Return to the floor."

"_Again?_"

Splinter is out of patience with Donatello's constant apathy towards training. "Do not argue! You will practice until you learn to defend yourself correctly!"

Without further complaint, Donatello climbs to his feet and takes his place on the floor.

"Ready stance," Splinter instructs, getting into a fighting pose himself. "Block my attacks."

Donatello raises his arms and gamely tries to defend himself, but he's worn out from his matches and his work is sloppy. He fumbles through the most basic blocks, letting some strikes through and diverting others into glancing blows that could still cause him significant injury in a real fight.

"Block higher!" Splinter says sharply, after the first sequence of exchanges, and follows with a descending strike that lands heavily on Donatello's uplifted arm.

"Sensei, I'm tired!" Donatello complains, fending off another strike. "Please can we stop?"

"No!" Splinter launches two rapid attacks that cut through Donatello's defenses and catch him in the shoulder. "Your enemy will not stop because you are tired!"

He has never framed their training in terms of battles and enemies before, but Raphael's abduction has shaken him and he can no longer afford to make a game of his sons' education. He knows that his anger is misplaced - it's not as though Donatello would have been able to prevent a grown human from hurting Raphael - but he can't seem to make himself stop. His speed and strength increase with his rage, and he lands a blow to Donatello's chest that sends the little Turtle sprawling across the floor. Without even thinking, he steps forward to press the advantage.

"Yield!" Donatello cries. "Yield!"

"The fight is not over!" Splinter says, in direct contradiction to his own rules. "Get up!"

Donatello curls into a bony ball, instinctively protecting himself from attack. "Sensei, no!"

"_Get up!_"

Donatello gets to his feet, shaking and crying and trying to get back into a fighting stance.

"You cannot cry in the dojo!" Splinter shouts at him. Unfounded anger flashes through his veins. "One hundred flips!"

He's startled to hear himself say it - he's never assigned more than thirty before - but he doesn't take it back. "Now!" he shouts.

Donatello stumbles to the corner and begins the exercise. Splinter whirls on his other sons. "The third kata!" he orders them. "Twenty times!"

Leonardo and Michelangelo begin immediately, too terrified to do otherwise. Splinter divides his intense gaze among his three sons, listening to them count their exercises.

Donatello's voice gets increasingly tremulous as he passes thirty-five, and then forty. At forty-seven his count is a bare whisper, and before fifty-two he simply slides to the ground and stops moving.

Leonardo and Michelangelo are only up to nine, but Splinter can't watch anymore. "Dismissed," he says icily, and stalks into his room, not even bothering to bow to the dojo.

Mikey moves as soon as the door is closed, sliding across the cracked tiles on his bare knees and touching his brother's shoulder. "Donnie, are you okay?"

"I'll get water," Leo says, and runs for the bathroom.

"Donnie, come on." Mikey shakes his brother a little. "You gotta be okay."

Leo returns with a cup of water, which he dumps unceremoniously over Donnie's face.

Donnie jerks and throws his arms over his head. "No! No more!"

"Donnie, it's okay." Leo puts the cup down and pries Donnie's arms loose, wiping away the beaded water. "Sensei went back to his room."

"That was super scary," Mikey says. "He just went nuts, like bam! Pow! It was all –"

"Mikey, we _know_." Leo pulls on Donnie's wrists and helps him sit up. "We just saw it."

"He wouldn't yield or anything!" Mikey goes on. He stills suddenly. "Do you think he hates us, now? Like, Raphie is gone, and he thinks it would be better if all of us were gone?"

"No," Donnie says. "He only hates me. 'Cause it's my fault Raphie got lost."

"Well, it is your fault," Leo says. "But – but he still shouldn't've beat you up like that."

"I should go away," Donnie says morosely.

"No." Leo pokes Donnie in the chest. "You gotta stay. You gotta be my number two, now. You get a… a prema…" He screws up his face, trying to remember the word. "You get to be a big brother, now."

Donnie looks up uncertainly.

Leo doesn't _want_ to give Donnie this responsibility, doesn't want to entrust him with the safety of his precious youngest brother. But he's already short one sibling. He can't stand the thought of being without another, and this is the only way he can think of to make Donnie stay. "You haveta help protect Mikey now," Leo tells him. "So… don't lose him, okay?"

"I won't." Donnie wipes at his face, and Leo thinks there are tears mixed with the water. "I'll do better."

"Good," Leo says. He draws both of his brothers into a hug. "We all gotta do better now. 'Cause… 'cause Raphie would want us to."

Donnie nods. He can do better. For Raphie.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

When Emily gets up to the staff kitchen, Noah is already enjoying his mid-morning soda.

"Came early today?" she asks, putting her bagged lunch away in the fridge.

"Like I was going to wait any longer for Raphael's test results," he replies.

"And?"

"Not an alien," Noah says, with great disappointment. "But definitely a new species, and a pretty weird one." He drains his soda and tosses the can in the recycling. "Come on, I'll show you."

Emily follows him down to his office. Noah plops into his chair and wheels it close up to the desk, while Emily takes the opposite seat. There's a thick stack of papers, multiple copies of DNA charts, probably twenty pages each. He turns the top one around so Emily can read it.

"There's a lot of turtle DNA," Noah says, indicating sequences in the narrow columns. "But not enough to easily say what _kind_ of turtle he's most closely related to. And then," he rubs his nose and turns the page, "there's all this, which isn't like anything."

"That's kind of the definition of _new species_," Emily says dryly.

"No, I mean it's not even _close_ to anything," Noah says. He scans the upside-down text. "There are random matches with all kinds of known organisms, but that's just an artifact of the simplicity of DNA. Taken in larger chunks, there's just no relation between Raphael and any other genome we've sequenced. I mean, look at this." He points to a neat alternating pattern of A-T and T-A pairs. "And this." An extraordinary number of G-C pairs, one right after the other. "And this." A loop of the four base pairs, chasing each other endlessly down the page. "I've never seen anything like it." Noah turns the paper back around and considers it. "DNA is supposed to look random. But this... it looks like it was arranged by an artist who would really be better off working in a library."

"So what is he?" Emily asks.

"Well, he's a vertebrate, at least," Noah replies. "If I had to pick a class, I'd say reptile." He flips the pages back, so the sheaf lies flat again. "Emily... even aside from his intelligence, Raphael is going to be the most interesting thing in biology since that telegram about the platypus." His professional calm shatters, and he breaks out in a wide grin. "I am _so_ excited about this! Do you have any idea how many papers we're going to get published? I mean, it's not as good as finding an _actual_ alien, but... it's getting pretty close...."

"Don't worry," Emily says. "One of these days you'll meet an actual alien." She indicates the printouts. "Can I take one?"

"Take two," Noah says, pushing them at her. "Take three. One for the reporter, one for... I don't know, for posterity."

"Thanks." Emily knocks the papers against the desk, to align the edges, and stands up. "By the way – male or female?"

"No sex chromosomes," Noah tells her. "You'll have to do it the old-fashioned way."

More or less impossible. Turtles are hard enough when they belong to a known species, and with only one specimen she can't even guess from comparison. _Reptiles._

"Well," she says, "let me know if you notice anything else."

"Absolutely." Noah puts his hand possessively on the remaining charts. "I'm not done with these. Not by a long shot."

* * *

On the kitchen wipeboard, Raphael doesn't yet have a checkmark for breakfast, so Anne flips open his care book and prepares some food according to what Dr. Thacker has noted about his needs and preferences.

There's a scribbled line on the most recent page, indicating that Raphael should be sent out into the exercise yard.

Anne layers some extra fruit on top of the vegetables and fish; she would much prefer to entice Raphael outside, rather than fight with him again.

She hasn't seen him since she showed him to Noyes, and hasn't heard much either. The research department must have found him interesting, or they would have transferred him to one of the other buildings.

_Or maybe he wouldn't go._

She shakes her head. Raphael is an animal; he can be controlled. If he were really as intelligent as Anne had originally thought, Dr. Thacker surely would have noticed. She is the expert, after all.

Anne takes the bowl of food, and heads to the old gorilla enclosure.

When she gets there, Raphael is sitting in the hammock, holding a stuffed animal in his lap, and - she would swear - radiating a profound sadness.

"Hey," she says, keeping the bowl tilted towards him while she circles around to the open door. "You want some breakfast? Why don't you come outside and eat?"

Raphael watches her with narrowed eyes. As she passes behind him, moving out of his line of sight, his neck snaps around at blinding speed, and he continues watching over his other shoulder.

"Come on," Anne encourages, shaking the bowl a little and backing out through the door. "Come and get it."

He doesn't move.

She sets the bowl down under a tree and goes back inside. "Hey," she says, approaching the hammock while making big gestures at the door. "Go on outside. It's a beautiful day."

He clutches the stuffed animal a little tighter.

"You can take that with you," Anne says. She reaches out and taps his shell with her fingertips. "Come -"

On the second tap, he whips around and clobbers her forearm with the stuffed animal.

It doesn't hurt, but it certainly conveys a message.

"Okay," she says, switching to Plan B. "Have it your way." With a speed gained from many encounters with striking animals, she snakes her arm around his middle, pinning his arms. With her other hand, she scruffs him - he has an awful lot of extra skin around his neck. She squeezes, just so, until the relaxation response is triggered, and then she leans him forward, shifting his weight onto her arm so she can lift him.

The stuffed animal falls from his limp fingers as she carries him outside. She lays him down gently, in the sunshine by the pond, sliding her arm out from underneath and releasing him from the hold. She backs away, into the cool of the enclosure, and closes the door.

* * *

Not fair! How did she know about that reflex? _He_ didn't even know! Nobody has ever grabbed him like that before, and he's definitely not going to let anybody do it again.

Heck, he's not even going to tell his brothers about it. It's just _not fair_.

There's still a tingling weakness in his limbs, but he slithers down into the pond, and settles in the sand at the bottom.

* * *

On her way back to the kitchen to see what else needs to be done, Anne runs into Dr. Thacker.

"Raphael's been put out," Anne says.

"Good," says Dr. Thacker, distractedly, more interested in the sheaf of papers in her hand. "Thank you."

"He didn't want to go," Anne tells her. "He hit me again."

Dr. Thacker refocuses. "What? Where?"

"Only on the arm," Anne says. "With his stuffed animal. I thought you should know."

Dr. Thacker sighs. "That's why I wanted him outside. There's a reporter coming to see him, and I thought it would be better all around if we used the viewing platform."

"I think you're right." Anne flicks her gaze to the papers. "More rat results?"

"No," Dr. Thacker says, reshuffling the stack so Anne has a better angle for reading them. "Raphael's DNA. Dr. DeVry just gave it to me."

"Oh?" Anne can't make heads or tails of the data, but she looks at it anyway. "So what is he?"

"We're still sort of working that out," Dr. Thacker says, skimming over the lines of text herself. "But this is really Noah's department, and my rats are calling." She pulls the papers to her chest. "Thanks again, Anne. I'm sorry Raphael has taken such a dislike to you."

"Dr. Thacker," Anne says, as the scientist turns to go. "What do you think of Raphael?"

Dr. Thacker regards her consideringly. "I think he's very interesting. And I think someone is regretting that he escaped."

Anne remains in the hallway for a few moments after Dr. Thacker has gone, reflecting on what the cognition expert told her. Nothing Dr. Thacker said suggests that she thinks Raphael is anything more than a clever animal.

Well. Anne must have been mistaken in her judgment. She defers to the higher education and greater experience of the white-coats, and gets on with the business of cleaning cages and administering medicine to uncooperative patients.

* * *

Raphael remains submerged until his air runs out - twelve minutes, by his time sense, which is better than Donnie's record of ten and a half - then tilts up and pushes just the top of his snout above the water line. His nostrils pull open, his lungs refill, and he stays that way until the slow, heavy feeling leaves his body.

When he feels strong again, he digs his toes into the sand and rises smoothly into the air. Water rains off him, pattering back into itself, staining the dirt dark as he climbs out of the artificial basin and crosses the sunny yard.

He considers his situation. The door to the inside part of the cage is closed, and a quick check proves it's locked. He's now trapped outdoors, which is a novel and nerve-wracking situation. As much as he needs the sun, darkness and a solid roof over his head have always meant safety. If he can creep into a narrow place and hide, then everything will be okay.

The bushes just don't look like very good cover.

He decides to climb a tree. It will put him out of reach, like his perch inside, and if somebody tries to trap him he can jump onto the netting and get away.

At the base of his chosen tree is a bowl of food. He's not really hungry, but he thinks it would be a good idea to take it with him, so he won't have to come down later. Examination shows that the bowl has a funny hollow underneath, and he can balance it on his head while he climbs.

Raphael settles on a sturdy upper branch. He can see almost the whole yard, and a person on the ground will have trouble spotting him.

He congratulates himself on his awesome ninja skills, makes himself comfortable, and waits to see what will happen.

Some time later, he hears Thacker's voice from outside the wall. "Right over here," she's saying. "Watch your step."

There's some creaking, and then Thacker and a human Raphael doesn't recognize appear over the wall.

Half of them, anyway.

This is very surprising. Thacker is not that tall, and if _any_ human is, then Raphael has been sorely mistaken about their size range.

From their easy posture, Raph can tell that they're not climbing, not balancing on narrow holds. They must be standing on something that he can't see.

"Where is he?" the strange human is asking.

"I don't - Ah. There." Raphael holds his ground - or, at least, his branch - as Thacker points at him.

"A giant turtle that climbs trees?" the new human says. "Are you sure this isn't a hoax?"

"A little research into the history of zoology will acquaint you with many stories of real animals that were initially thought to be hoaxes," Thacker says.

Too many words Raph doesn't know, and it only gets worse from there. _Species. Opposable. Phylogeny._ It's all way over his head, and mostly he's just interested in watching the humans to be sure they don't throw or shoot anything at him.

After a while they go away, and a while after that some half-glimpsed person, that Raphael can't remember seeing before, comes and opens the door.

He stays in the tree, picking at the food. Part of him is hungry, but another part is all twisted up and doesn't want to eat anything. He feels sick in his stomach - not the sick of a fever, or the sick of bad food, but a different kind of sick, like a ball of sadness got inside him and is taking up the place where something else should be.

He can't look at the food anymore.

He wedges the bowl into a crook of the branches, gathers himself, and jumps up into the netting. He climbs near the wall the humans were standing over, then away from it, trying every angle, but he can't see what they were standing on.

Anyway, he still can't get out. He hangs down from the net and drops to the ground, landing in an elastic crouch, the way his father taught him.

He stays crouched there, tracing his finger in the loose dirt. Right now, he wants nothing more than to be underground, to be in a place where the walls and the darkness hold him close, where nobody knows he exists and nobody can hurt him. He wants to be left alone. He doesn't want to see anyone, unless it's his family coming to rescue him.

Actually, he wants to see his family, even if they're not rescuing him. This place would be a little less awful, if only he wasn't so alone in it.

He goes inside with dragging feet. The red tube in the corner catches his eye, makes him think of a narrow runoff near his home, where he once wrote his name on the wall and declared himself King of the Sewer.

He crawls into the tunnel, making it rock under his shuffling hands and knees. He scooches around, so that he's facing out into the room, and lies down, imagining himself back in the only world he's ever owned.

* * *

Emily selects a cage from the shelving unit, pulls it out, holds it up, peers inside. The occupant, Alice, is a singularly dim-witted rat. She can't seem to learn even the simplest of tasks. She's completely useless for cognition studies, and if Emily can't find some other way for Alice to earn her keep, the little rodent will have to be sent to the Reptile House as snake food. (Emily sees the elegant economy of the practice, but she still hates it.)

"Last chance, Al," Emily says to the uncomprehending animal. "I hope you like giant turtles."

She gently lowers the cage to arm's-length, and carries it out of her office, heading down the hall to the gorilla enclosure. She lets herself in, sliding through the narrowest possible opening and then closing the door.

"Raphael?" she calls, because the turtle is nowhere in sight. "Are you still outside?"

Emily sets the cage down, with only the tiniest bump, and goes out into the yard. No sign of Raphael in the pond or the bushes or the trees. (Though she does notice a blue plastic bowl caught in the branches - she'll have to send someone with a ladder to get it down.) She goes back inside. Her eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting, and she stops short.

The door of the cage is open, and Alice is gone.

She is dealing with one scarily intelligent reptile.

She had intended to follow good practice, introduce the two animals gradually, let them see each other while maintaining a safe separation. It hadn't occurred to her that Raphael would figure out the little spring-loaded catch quite that quickly.

Well. If Alice has been eaten, she's at least no worse off than if Emily hadn't tried this experiment.

"Raphael?" she calls again. Not perched on the climbing structure. Not in the tire swing. Not in the hammock. She bends down to peer into the crawling tube.

Two pairs of eyes shine back at her. Two pairs of eyes blink.

Emily settles into a crouch, tilting up the end of the flexible tube so she can see better. "You," she says, "are one very clever turtle."

Raphael is holding Alice close to him, but gently, stroking her like he did the stuffed cat. Alice, for her part, looks calm and comfortable, though it's possible she's just too stupid to be afraid.

"Can I have that back for a minute?" Emily asks, reaching in.

Raphael moves Alice away from her, possessively.

"Raphael," Emily says firmly. "Give me the rat. Give it!"

Raphael growls.

"No!" Emily reprimands him. "Drop it, Raphael!"

He shifts backwards, putting himself in the middle of the crawl-tube, where she can't easily get at him from either end.

On the one hand, the tube is sized for a gorilla, and Emily can very well go in after her rat. On the other hand, it's rarely a good idea to enter an enclosed space with an angry animal. Emily hasn't yet _seen_ Raphael attack anyone, but apparently he does when he feels threatened.

Emily sits back on her heels. If Raphael and Alice were going to fight, they probably would have done it already. First contact seems to have gone well. At this point, leaving them together doesn't seem any more dangerous than letting one's pets encounter each other as they move around the house.

"Fine," Emily says. "She's yours." She stands up and moves the cage into a corner, leaving the door open so Alice has a rat-sized place of refuge in the big room.

She flicks through her mental list of animal needs. There's food and water in the cage. The walls of the exercise yard are smooth and solid, so Alice won't be able to go over or under or through them. Alice doesn't have any diseases, and if Raphael did, Noah would have mentioned that when the blood tests came back. Her lovably dull rat should be perfectly safe here.

_It's funny, how animals from completely different species will accept each other into their packs, and become inseparable. Who would've thought a turtle would adopt a rat?_

"Okay," Emily says. "You two have fun."

She heads back to her office. In nineteen other cages, bright rats are waiting to dazzle her with their maze-running skills.

* * *

"It's okay," Raph whispers to the rat, when Thacker's footsteps have faded away. "I won't let her hurt you." He puts his new friend down, and the sleek grey rodent scampers around the crawl tube, climbing up the curve of one side until it gets too steep and she slides back to the bottom, then trying the same thing on the other side.

Raph lies down on his stomach, watching the rat. "I'm Raphael," he says. "What's your name, Nezumi-san?" He waits for an answer, but if the rat replies he can't understand. "Okay. Can I call you Nezumi-san?" He listens attentively for a moment. "Did they catch you too? They caught me, and I've been trying to get out but I can't. You know, you're little. You could fit through the holes in the outside ceiling. But the wall is pretty high, and you look like you're not so good at climbing..." A plan begins to formulate in his mind. "I'm good at climbing. I can help you get to the ceiling holes. You could run away. What do you think?" The rat sits up on her hind legs, twitching her whiskers in his direction. "Yeah. We could be partners. You could get out, and then... and then..." _And then I'd be alone again._ "Hey. Listen." He scoops the rat into his hands. "I'll help you get out, but you gotta do something for me. You gotta go find my dad. He's a rat, only a really big one. You gotta find him, and tell him where I am. Okay?" He lifts the rat a little closer to his face, willing her to understand him, the way rats understand his father. "You gotta promise!"

The rat nibbles his thumb.

"Okay," Raph says. "You promised. No backsies." He thinks, while the rat curls into a circle and grooms herself. "We'll do it later. When it's dark." He shifts the rat into one palm and strokes her with his other hand. "You should rest now. So you'll be ready."

He gently deposits the rat on the curving floor of the tube, and she immediately tucks her nose under her tail and goes to sleep.

Raph smiles at her. This plan will work for sure. He'll be out of here in no time.

* * *

He waits.

He waits while a brown-clothes human comes in with a strange moving ladder, gets the food bowl down from the tree, and goes away again, grumbling the whole time.

He waits while a different brown-clothes human brings yet another bowl of vegetables and dried fish, this time along with a tiny bowl of brown pellets. The rat is only too happy to eat them, even though Raph tries to warn her they might not be good.

He waits as the sun goes down, as the darkness gathers and the building quiets around him.

He waits while the rat takes a post-dinner nap, while she squeaks indignantly at the stuffed cat until she loses interest, while she goes into her cage to drink from the funny bottle there, while she sits in the sawdust licking her butt.

He waits until the moment seems right.

When his finely-tuned ninja senses tell him it's time, he pads over to the little wire cage, crouches down, and holds out his hand. "Come on," he says, and the rat scampers out, shakes herself, scurries into his palm and up onto his shoulder.

He goes outside, into the cool evening, and climbs with strong hands and steady feet. From the top of the tree, it's an easy jump to the netting. He swings himself up, curling his toes into the lattice, so that he's suspended face-up between the earth and the sky.

"Go," he encourages his partner, pulling himself as close to the netting as he can, lifting his shoulder to make her way easier. "Jump up! There's something on the other side you can use to get down."

The rat patters in circles over his chest and stomach, her claws ticking against the bony plating. Then she launches herself upwards, catching the net with her front paws and swinging wildly before she manages to pull herself up. In seconds she's away, funambulating fearlessly over the wall.

"Remember!" he calls after the disappearing rat. "Find my dad! His name is Splinter! He's really big, you can't miss him!" He listens, but he can no longer hear the scratching of the rat's tiny claws. "Good luck," he whispers.

It's dark.

He's alone.

It hurts.

* * *

Translation Notes

_Nezumi-san_ – "Mr./Ms. Rat".


	8. Chapter 7

**Part Two – The Second Circle**

Chapter Seven

Leo has his hand on the doorknob when Donnie catches him.

"Where are you going?" Donnie asks.

"To sit under the grate," Leo says, as if he has every right to do so.

"Did Splinter say you could?" Donnie asks.

"I didn't ask him," Leo says. "Anyway, I haven't gone in... in five days."

"I don't want you to get lost," Donnie says anxiously.

"I won't," Leo says. "I won't get... whatever Raph got."

"How do you know?" Donnie asks.

"I just won't," Leo says confidently.

"Please don't go," Donnie begs.

"I have to," Leo says. "And you have to stay here and protect Mikey. Okay? You promised. I'm counting on you, Donnie."

"O... okay," Donnie says.

Leo pats Donnie on the shoulder, and slips out into the sewer. He sloshes along to the grate, and is disappointed to see that the day is overcast. He swirls his foot disconsolately in the water, stirring up the sludge, then climbs onto the pipe.

He leans his head back against the damp wall, closes his eyes, and sits a while, feeling the air and light make shifting patterns of warm and cool against his skin.

A change in the pattern – more cool flickers than warm ones. Leo unsticks his eyes and looks up. Something is caught in the grate, blocking the weak grey sunlight from its downward path.

Leo pulls his legs up under him and stands, balancing on the pipe, stretching his fingers as high as he can reach. He catches a corner of the fluttering thing, and pulls carefully – no good if he tears off a piece and then can't get the rest.

The thing comes loose and comes down, slipping through the metal slots, bringing behind it the pent-up light in a scatter of crystal drops.

Leo catches it before it can fall into the muck. It's a newspaper. The back page screams up at him, colorful pictures of things he'll never have. He turns it over to the front.

His eyes widen.

He scrambles back to the lair as fast as he can go, tripping over submerged garbage, barely saving the precious newspaper from ruin. He flings the door open, forgetting in his haste to wash his feet, runs directly to Splinter's door and bangs on it. "Sensei! I found Raphie!"

Splinter opens the door at once. Leo holds up the wet, limp newspaper. Splinter's eyes are drawn immediately to the picture on the front page. It's wrinkled and sodden but clearly his Raphael. He snatches the paper and reads the article as fast as his comprehension of written English will allow. When he's finished, he stares into space for a few moments, as his mind absorbs the details. Then his gaze focuses on Leonardo.

"Leonardo," he says slowly. "Where did you get this newspaper?"

"I went to the grate," Leo says. "I found it there."

"_You went outside?_"

"I wasn't gonna get in trouble!" Leo protests. "I told Donnie to watch Mikey and -"

"Donatello saw you go?" Splinter asks in a low, dangerous tone.

"Um..." Leonardo tries to backpedal, but he can't come up with anything that isn't an obvious lie.

"Donatello!" Splinter roars.

Donatello appears from the direction of the bedroom and creeps across to Splinter, keeping his eyes down.

"You let Leonardo leave the lair?" Splinter asks.

"Yes," Donatello says meekly.

"Go to your room," Splinter says to Leonardo. "I will deal with you later."

Leonardo glances at Donatello, trying to apologize with his eyes, then scurries from the room.

"Have I taught you nothing?" Splinter says. "Have you not listened to a single one of my lessons? You do not abandon your brothers! You do not let them go into danger!"

"I told him not to!" Donatello whimpers, his eyes still fixed to the floor.

"_But you let him!_"

"I tried to –"

"You did not try hard enough!" Splinter shouts. "You walked away from him!" Fury blurs his vision and his mind. His anger at Donatello merges into his anger at himself, his fear for Leonardo dissolves into the turmoil of the past five days, and he no longer knows who he is yelling at or why. "_You let Raphael get taken!_"

"I'm sorry, Father!" Donatello cries. "I'm sorry!"

At that moment, Splinter's heart breaks. He's run out of anger, and the suddenly empty place inside him is filled with a rushing sadness. He opens his arms to embrace his son, moving forward when Donatello does not come to him.

"It is I who should be sorry," he says. "I should be grateful that I did not lose both of you, but I have done everything wrong. This was not your fault. I am sorry, Donatello. Please forgive me."

"A- apology accepted," Donatello sniffles.

Splinter rubs Donatello's shell in slow circles until his breathing steadies. "We will get him back," he promises. "Go back to your room. Play with your brothers, and I will think about how we will do it."

Donatello nods against Splinter's shoulder, then backs away and trots across the room. Splinter watches him until he is through the doorway and out of sight. Then he returns to his own room to formulate a plan.

* * *

Splinter reads the article again, slowly this time, extracting every fragment of information. Raphael is _alive_. There is no mention of horrible experiments being performed on him. Raphael has told the scientists his name, and this worries Splinter, but if Raphael has given up any other information about his family and their whereabouts, the newspaper has not printed it.

Just to be sure, Splinter combs through the pages of dense text, but there are no other articles of interest to him. Just the one on the front page, and its continuation on page two.

The article gives a location. Splinter lays out the paper on his table, smoothing down the creases, and goes to his bookshelf. There is a map, old and worn and stained, that he found years ago, showing all of New York City. He lifts this carefully and carries it to the table, where he unfolds it gently. Staten Island is hanging by a thread, and the map is difficult enough for him to read without trying to line up different pieces of it.

He scans the two-dimensional boroughs, his finger hovering back and forth, reading the colored text. _There_. These words match the ones in the article.

BRONX ZOO

He puts his claw on it, and with his other hand he traces down to the location of his home. It is far, but not farther than he can travel in a night. The hours of darkness will be more than sufficient for him to go and return.

Of course, the trip back will be slower. His sons cannot travel as fast as he can, and if Raphael is weakened from his ordeal it could be a very long journey indeed.

Splinter sets this problem aside and focuses instead on guessing how long it will take him to release Raphael from his imprisonment. Once that is done, they need only find a safe hiding place. They do not need to make it all the way home in one night.

Except that his other sons cannot be left alone for long.

A sudden terror strikes him - what if, while rescuing Raphael, he is himself captured? A picture of his children - waiting for his return, waiting as the hours turn into days and weeks, and starving, unable to fend for themselves - flies into his mind.

He puts the thought aside. He cannot make any plans, take any action regarding the safety of his family, until he has resolved things with Leonardo. He must rectify his small mistakes, so the lingering regret of them will not cloud his judgment when he faces his big mistakes.

He rises.

* * *

"Sorry I got you in trouble," Leo says, as Donnie climbs onto the bed.

"Why'd you come in making so much noise?" Donnie asks. "Master Splinter was in his room the whole time. You woulda gotten away with it, if you'd been quiet."

"I had to show him the newspaper I found," Leo says. "Raphie's picture was in it."

"Raphie got his picture in the newspaper?" Mikey says disbelievingly. "How come he gets to be famous? I wanna be famous."

"You can't be famous," Leo tells him. "You're a ninja. A famous ninja is… is…" He tries to think of what it is. "It's just stupid."

"That's not true," Mikey says. "Sarutobi was a famous ninja. He was awesome."

"Sarutobi is a _story_," Leo snaps. "He's not real."

"Everything's better in stories," Mikey mumbles.

"Is Master Splinter mad at you?" Leo asks Donnie.

"Not anymore," Donnie says. "He says it's not my fault Raphie got lost."

Leo circles his finger on the thin blanket. The dark shadow of punishment has shifted: Donnie is clear of it now, and it's hanging heavy over his own head.

_I will deal with you later._

Splinter's punishments are usually brief and fair, and once they are completed, all is forgiven. Often, the worst part is waiting for judgment to fall.

"Wanna color?" Mikey asks.

Leo accepts the torn paper and broken crayons. He draws a picture of himself with Sarutobi.

It's not a very good distraction.

* * *

Some time later, Splinter appears in the doorway of the bedroom. "Leonardo," he says, and beckons.

Leo follows him. As soon as they are seated in Splinter's room, Leo says, "I'm sorry, Father. I won't do it again."

"I know you will not," Splinter says. "You do not make the same mistake in judgment twice." He looks steadily at Leonardo. "What you must learn, is to think before you act, and not make a mistake the first time."

"I'll try," Leo says.

"I know you will," Splinter says. "Leonardo," he says heavily. "You are the eldest of your brothers. One day, when you are older, I will ask you to be in charge of them. You must set a better example."

Leo nods solemnly.

"I am sorry, Leonardo," Splinter says. "I have not been a good father, these last few days. You are not the only one who makes mistakes."

Leonardo risks a smile, and Splinter returns it. "The important thing," says Splinter, "is that we learn from our mistakes. The rules must change now. You and your brothers can no longer go to the grate, unless I am with you."

"Oh," says Leonardo, in disappointment. His eyes turn sad. "Is Raphie gone, forever?"

"Not all mistakes can be fixed," Splinter says. "But I will try very, very hard to fix this one. I will not let Raphael go, without doing everything I can to get him back."

"Okay," Leo says.

"Go back to your room now," Splinter says. "I will see you later."

* * *

Splinter sits for a long time, thinking about the problem, trying to justify what he's decided to do.

It's clear to him that he can't go alone. If he doesn't come back - and he doesn't think it likely that he will - his remaining sons will not survive long on their own.

Either they all go, or none of them do.

It's also clear to him that he can't _not_ go. He would always blame himself for abandoning Raphael to the humans. He's equally sure that Raphael would always blame him, for however long he remained alive. His other sons, too, would blame him, especially if they continued to come across pictures of their lost brother, and to be reminded of what their father would not do for him.

As much as he struggles with the horrible wrongness of his plan, he can't bear the thought of doing nothing.

_Will you really sacrifice all of your sons, because you cannot forgive yourself for losing one?_

He will.

He will.

He can't live with himself if he doesn't.

* * *

The person known as Mr. Mortu lowers the morning paper and sits back thoughtfully. After a moment, he picks up the phone and dials. It rings twice, three times, before someone answers. "Yes," he says. "My name is Dr. Wright..."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Mr. Mortu stands, his hands behind his back, staring blankly at a piece of mass-produced art.

Seven years of work. Seven years of combing through limited data, trying to extrapolate from knowns to unknowns. Seven years of simulations and educated guesses, of theories that didn't work out and information that led to nothing. Seven years have brought him to this moment, standing in the waiting room of the Bronx Zoo's research building, looking at a cheap reproduction of an impressionist painting.

Maybe Raphael is the one. Maybe he isn't. Mortu will investigate, make his report, do what needs to be done.

After seven years, he may finally be reaching the end of his assignment.

The door opens. Mortu turns. "Dr. Noyes?" he asks of the heavyset, white-coated gentleman who comes out to meet him.

"Yes," says Noyes, and they shake hands. Noyes gestures to the younger man accompanying him. "This is Dr. DeVry. He's been assisting with this project."

"Nice to meet you," DeVry says, and they also shake hands.

"Thank you both for meeting with me on such short notice," Mortu says. He presents his business card to Noyes. "As I told you on the phone, I am the director of the Terrestrial Genomics Research Institute."

Noyes glances at the card. "I take it your area is genetics?"

"Experimental genetics, yes. Raphael is my pet project. I've been working with him for many years."

"Dr. DeVry is our genetics expert," Noyes says. "He performed the analysis of Raphael's DNA. I have to say, your work is... very interesting."

"Thank you," says Mortu.

"Of course," says Noyes, "I'm going to need proof that it _is_ your work. I'm sure you understand how someone might be tempted to try to gain custody of a valuable specimen by claiming previous ownership."

"Of course," says Mortu. "I can bring you proof tomorrow. For now, though, would you mind if I visited with Raphael for a few minutes?"

"Normally," says Noyes, "only zoo staff are allowed in the enclosures. I could make an exception, if…"

Mortu turns to DeVry. "On the seventeenth and twenty-first chromosomes, there are some nucleotide sequences characteristic of venomous jellyfish."

It's a gamble, based on seven years of work. If things happened the way he thinks they did…

"That's right," says DeVry.

Mortu allows his hopes to rise a little. Those sequences are also characteristic of his own species. _Accurate replication of introduced DNA…_ He turns back to Noyes. "Tomorrow I will show you more solid evidence. But for now –"

Noyes gestures to the door. "By all means."

* * *

Mortu enters the enclosure, shuts the door behind him, scans the space to be sure there are no cameras. Raphael is perched on a vertical support of a wooden climbing structure, the highest point in the room. _Manifestation of arboreal instincts?_ Mortu looks up at the turtle, and wonders if his search is finally at an end.

"Raphael," he says, taking a few steps forward. "My name is Mr. Mortu. I have been looking for you for a long time."

Raph glares down at his visitor. He doesn't care what kind of lies the human tells him. He's not going to talk.

"If you can understand me," the human says, "it is vitally important that you respond. If you cannot understand, then there is no harm in my saying this anyway. Raphael – I am not a human, and I don't think you are an animal."

Raph closes his eyes and rests his forehead against his knees. "I'm not," he whispers.

Mr. Mortu is beside him suddenly, climbing up the structure with a weird, fluid grace. Raph jerks away, making to leap to the ground.

"Do not be afraid," Mr. Mortu says. "I have been assigned to find someone, and to give them assistance if they require it. I think you are that person."

Raph balances on the edge of the pole. "Who are you?"

"I will answer that later," Mortu replies. "First I must be sure about who _you_ are."

Raph twists his fingers. "I'm nobody. No one knows who I am."

Mortu considers the strange person beside him. He had predicted that the transmat run-off would confer Utrom-like intelligence to any Earth creature it came in contact with, but Raphael only seems to have the intellectual capacity of a larva. Did he stop developing at that stage? Or is he only a child, and still coming into his full ability?

"Raphael," Mortu asks. "How old are you?"

"Seven," Raphael says dully.

_Seven_. Still many years from pupating. He will need to simplify his speech.

"Raphael," Mr. Mortu says, and waits for the little Turtle to look at him. "Do you know any stories about a strange green liquid?"

"Yeah," Raphael says. Then, more guardedly: "But it's a secret."

"Let me tell you a story about a green liquid," Mr. Mortu says. "Tell me if any of this sounds familiar.

"My facility produces a green liquid as a byproduct of our trans-" He shakes his head and begins again. "It's a kind of garbage that we make. When we make too much of it, we send it to another one of our facilities, where it is recycled. Turned into useful things." He looks at his audience, and sees that Raphael is completely bored. "One day," he goes on, "we were transporting some of this garbage, when the truck carrying it got in an accident." At this point, Raphael perks up. "Sound familiar?" Mr. Mortu asks.

Raphael nods.

"As the truck was driving through the city," Mr. Mortu says, watching Raphael's reactions closely, "a man started crossing the street in front of it. The driver tried to stop, but he was already too close. Fortunately for the man, a young boy jumped off the sidewalk and pushed him out of the way." He pauses. "That young boy was carrying some pet animals. Do you know what kind of animals they were, Raphael?"

Raph studies Mr. Mortu with equal intensity, then shakes his head.

"Neither the man nor the boy got hurt," Mr. Mortu says. "But when the driver tried to stop, the truck got hit by the car behind it. The crash made the back doors of the truck pop open, and one of the canisters of green liquid fell out." He pauses again. "Do you know what happened next?"

"Tell the story!" Raphael demands.

"Well," says Mr. Mortu. "The two drivers - neither of them got hurt - got out to look at the damage, which wasn't very bad. The driver of the truck closed the doors, not noticing that any of the canisters were missing. The drivers waited for the police, and the truck driver's cover story - his little lie - about what he was transporting wasn't questioned. The drivers went on their way, and the garbage was delivered."

Raph waits impatiently for Mr. Mortu to continue. "Well?" he asks. "How does it end?"

"When the people who received the garbage counted the canisters and saw that one was missing, they went back to the site of the accident and looked for it. They even went down in the sewers, because they thought it might have fallen through a grate." Mr. Mortu stops yet again. "Do you think they found it?"

Raphael stubbornly doesn't answer.

"Well, they did find it," Mr. Mortu says. "It was broken. They also found the broken bowl that the boy's pet animals had been in. You see, he dropped them when he pushed the man out of the way. The people looked for the animals, but couldn't find them." He smiled. "We are a technologically advanced people, but it never occurred to us to build a garbage-tracking device."

Raphael looks at him in confusion, and Mr. Mortu turns serious again. "Now, Raphael, I have to ask you a very important question. _What happened to those animals?_"

Raphael opens his mouth, then closes it. "Can't tell you," he mumbles.

"But you know?" Mortu presses.

Raphael makes a tiny wobbling movement with his head, which might have a nod somewhere in it.

It's a doozy of a leading question, but Mortu can't stop himself. "Was one of them you?"

In the blink of an eye, Raphael has grabbed Mortu's shirt in his fists. "You can't tell anyone!" he says fiercely.

"I won't," Mortu says.

Raphael shakes him, almost managing to have an effect on the light bones of the metal skeleton. "Swear!"

"I swear," Mortu says solemnly.

Raphael releases him, and turns away. "It was me," he says, very softly. "And my brothers."

Mortu's decentralized circulatory system lifts. He's found the right one, at last. "What were you?" he asks, just as softly, even though he knows no one is listening. He can't risk scaring Raphael into silence.

"Turtles."

"How many?"

"Four."

"That's your family, then?" Mortu asks. "You and your three brothers?"

"And our father," Raphael says.

Mortu had hoped that all would become clear when he was finally able to talk to the victims of the accident, but extracting information from Raphael isn't any easier than teasing useable data out of his computer simulations. "Was he a turtle also?" he asks.

"A rat," Raphael says.

"Was he with the boy?"

"No, he was in the sewer."

"He lived there?" Mortu asks. "He didn't belong to anybody?"

"He used to," Raphael says ambiguously.

"Belong to someone?"

"Yeah."

Another event from seven years ago flashes into Mortu's mind. It's unlikely, but... "Who did he belong to?"

Raphael fidgets, uncomfortable with how much he's already said.

"This is very important," Mortu says. "If you tell me, I can help your whole family."

Raphael rocks from side to side, thinking. "His Master Yoshi," he says finally.

_It can't be._ "Hamato Yoshi?"

Raphael looks up suddenly. "How'd you know that?"

The memory of Yoshi is still painful, hard to talk about. "I will explain everything tomorrow," Mortu says, "when I help you leave this place and find your family."

"Tomorrow?" Raphael asks. "Why not now?"

"If I took you now," Mortu says, burying his emotions under pragmatism, stifling his desire to take Raphael _right now_, "I would have to steal you, and then we would both be in great danger. Tomorrow I can convince the humans to give you to me."

Raph has never heard anyone outside his family refer to humans as... well, as _humans_, with an air of suspicion and distaste. It goes a long way towards making him trust.

"Okay," he says. "But hurry." It sounds a little desperate, so he adds, "'Cause I'm gonna get rescued soon anyway, so if you take too long I won't need your help."

"I will come tomorrow morning," Mortu promises. "You must be ready to leave."

Raphael glances around the enclosure. It's not as though he has anything to pack. "I will."


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Mikey adds a little more shading to his awesome picture of himself on a spaceship, then slides his eyes over to glance at Leo's drawing of a green stick figure next to a black stick figure.

_I'm a better artist than you, too_, he's tempted to say, but he doesn't, because Leo will probably insult him again.

He realizes Leo is looking up, and follows his gaze to see Master Splinter standing in the doorway.

"My sons," Master Splinter says, when they have all given him their attention. "We must discuss something of great importance."

They put their crayons aside, and sit up respectfully.

Master Splinter sits at the head of the bed, closest to Donnie. "I must ask something very difficult of you," he begins. "Tonight, I am going to rescue your brother. I must ask you to come with me."

"Like..." Leo's brow furrows. "You need our _help_?" The idea of Master Splinter not being able to do something by himself is a completely foreign concept.

That wasn't exactly the reason Splinter had in mind, but it's a better explanation. He smiles indulgently. "Of course," he says. "I have tried to find Raphael by myself, and, as you see, I have failed." Something twists inside him, but he doesn't let it show. "You have already helped by showing me where to look," he says to Leonardo, before looking at each of them in turn. "I will need all of you to help me get him back."

"Yeah!" Mikey says excitedly. "A mission!"

"It is very far," Splinter warns them. "It will be a long walk."

"We can do it," Leo says confidently.

"You should rest now," Splinter says. "We will leave after dark." He kisses each of them on the head, and leaves.

Mikey moves his drawing and his crayons out of the bed, so they won't get wrecked, and crawls under the blanket. Leo and Donnie do the same, curling up on either side of him.

As he settles into the old mattress, Mikey realizes that Donnie didn't say anything about Master Splinter's plan. He turns his head to ask, but Donnie is pretending to already be asleep.

He snuggles down, trying to quiet the anticipation sparkling through him, so he can get some rest before his first mission.

He thinks that this will be the most difficult part of the whole thing.

* * *

Alonzo Noyes is, frankly, quite confused.

On the one hand, his department is delighted with this turn of events. Emily has made it very clear to him that she wants Raphael returned to his owner, and is hopeful that she can finagle a research partnership with Wright on the side. Noah is likewise itching to get his hands on Wright's work.

On the other hand, Noyes has never heard of this TGR Institute, despite the fact that they are apparently conducting high-level biological research right here in the city. None of his contacts in the field seem to know about them either.

Then, of course, there's the thorny question of property rights. The best thing for him and his department would be to retain possession of Raphael, while also gaining access to all the data Wright has already collected. Unfortunately, Raphael is far more valuable to Wright than the ordinary emotional worth of a pet to his owner, and Noyes doubts that Wright will be talked into giving up custody. Either way, Wright is certainly under no obligation to hand over his research.

Although, Wright has promised to show them _something_ tomorrow, by way of proving ownership. With luck, Noyes will see enough to put his own research ahead by a significant amount.

_Or maybe…_

Noyes reaches for his computer, opens a browser window, runs a journal search for articles naming TGRI as the sponsoring institution.

Nothing comes up.

_I have to assume that his owner doesn't want everyone to know about him, or…_

"Everyone would know," Noyes says out loud.

Maybe Emily was right.

He automatically starts rationalizing his decision. Dr. Wright didn't seem angry about the newspaper article, certainly wouldn't have found Raphael so quickly if it hadn't been published. No harm seems to have been done. Interest in the zoo, and its research, is up, judging by the number of phone calls Noyes received this morning.

So far, everybody is winning.

And if he plays his cards right, his department will take the jackpot.

* * *

"Mortu," says the first Council member. "Report."

Mortu bows. "Honored Council. Fate works in mysterious ways. I have found one of the individuals who were affected by the transmat run-off, and he is the son of Hamato Splinter."

"We know this name," says the second Council member.

"Yes," says Mortu. "Hamato Splinter was the pet of Hamato Yoshi, our ally. Splinter was also affected by the mutagen."

"Yes," says the third Council member. "We remember -"

"- Hamato Yoshi. He was -"

"- a loyal friend to us."

"Honored Council," says Mortu. "Permission to assist Hamato Splinter and his sons."

"Granted," says the third Council Member. "But be careful -"

"Mortu. Do not endanger -"

"- our larger mission."

"I will not." Mortu bows again. "Thank you, Council."

* * *

Emily Thacker is not having the best day.

After a long, tedious morning of teaching rats to push blocks, she was treated to an oh-by-the-way conversation with her boss. She's losing a project she's become attached to, a project called "Raphael", and while she's not sad about why it's happening, she's pretty irritated about how it's being handled.

She's disappointed that she missed out on the (admittedly brief) meeting with Dr. Wright, but she knows exactly why she wasn't told. Noyes, undoubtedly, spent the whole meeting subtly indicating that the zoo expected, at the very least, to be compensated for finding and taking care of Wright's animal. Emily, herself, would have simply gone up to Wright, given him a hearty handshake, and told him how delighted she was that he and Raphael were going to be reunited.

And, in the process, completely undermined whatever bargaining position Noyes thought he had.

She's pretty confident that she managed to convey, in that after-the-fact conversation, precisely where she stands on the whole issue. Still, it would have been nice to talk to Wright directly, establish a professional relationship with him, and get an idea of whether he would be open to a research partnership.

On his terms, of course.

Well, he'll be coming back tomorrow to pick up Raphael, and she is not going to miss him again.

And, on that note, she had better go and spend some time with the turtle, in case this next twenty-four hours is all she has left.

She heads down to the gorilla enclosure and lets herself in, calling out cheerfully as she enters.

"Raphael? I heard you had a visitor this morning…"

Raphael pokes his head out of the crawl-tube.

"Hey there," she says, walking forward to get a better viewing angle. Raphael is holding something – the stuffed cat. "Where's Alice?"

She looks around, but there's no sign of the grey rodent. As her gaze sweeps across the floor, lingering on the wire cage, she notices something else: neither the turtle chow nor the rat pellets have been touched.

"Oh, no," she says. "You didn't. _Raphael_..."

He blinks back at her.

She sighs, unable to be angry at him. It's not as if he knows he did anything wrong. It was a bad idea in the first place.

"Well," she says, bending and picking up the little bowl of rat food. "I guess we won't need any of this anymore." She crosses the room, bends again, puts the bowl into the cage and lifts the whole thing in her arms, carrying it over to the door and setting it down again. Then she goes and sits by the tube.

Raphael withdraws immediately, out of reach.

"So," she says, crossing her legs and tucking her fists under her chin. "It looks like you're going home tomorrow. Will you like that?"

He doesn't respond.

"You've been awfully quiet lately," Emily says. "Why did you stop talking to me? Did I do something?"

Raphael only clutches his toy closer.

"I'm sorry," Emily says softly. "I did my best." She leans forward and stretches her arm out to pet him, smooth the kerchief over his head, but he pulls back and she lets her hand drop to the floor. Then she pushes herself to her feet and leaves, taking the cage with her.

Raphael wrings the limp cat, staring at nothing and trying not to believe Thacker's lies.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Splinter rests, as much as he can.

Late in the evening, he goes out of his room, builds up the fire, and starts cooking almost all the food left in the lair. He saves just one day's worth, of things that will last a long time.

In case they come back.

His sons, with their remarkable sense of timing in regards to food, stumble out of their room just as Splinter is putting everything on the table.

"Oh, wow," Michelangelo says, rubbing his eyes. "Am I still sleepin'? Are we really gonna eat all that?"

"You will need your strength," Splinter says.

The Turtles climb up into their chairs, and Splinter takes his own seat. He serves the food onto four chipped plates, but no one touches anything yet.

Donatello is looking at the food on the table, at the nearly-bare shelves, and frowning, his powerful mind trying to connect the dots.

Leonardo follows his brother's gaze, and in an instant seems to perceive everything his father has not told him. "Sensei..." he says. "We're - we're coming back, right?"

The question goes through him like a lightning bolt, but Splinter gives no outward sign. "There is food in front of you," he prompts.

"Itadakimasu," the Turtles chorus, and turn their full attention to eating as much as they can.

"Itadakimasu," Splinter echoes, though as usual he doesn't know who he's saying it to.

Each of his sons puts away two plates of food. Michelangelo asks for a third, but Splinter shakes his head. On the rare occasions when his sons get enough to eat, they become logy and sluggish, their energy turning inward to aid with digestion. He can't afford that tonight.

"Go and get ready," Splinter tells them. They hop down from their chairs and disappear into their room.

He leaves the uneaten food on the table, for the rats to finish. There is no point in being angry with them anymore. This will be a last offering to them, before he abdicates his position as colony leader, abandoning the lair and almost everything in it.

He has already decided on the one thing he will take with him, and he goes into his room now to get it: a dagger stolen years ago from a homeless man with whom he fought for a loaf of moldy bread. The dagger is not well-made, or of the kind that his Master Yoshi would have used, but it is all he has.

He draws the dagger now, checks its blade, then slides it back into its sheath and straps it to his leg. He takes one last look at the things he is leaving behind, before going out of his tiny chamber, closing the door behind him.

His sons are waiting in the main room, wearing their bandanas and grim faces.

"We're ready," Leonardo says.

Splinter nods. "Then let us go."

* * *

In the first hour they are cheerfully intrepid. In the second hour they are stoic and uncomplaining. In the third hour they drag, stifling moans with each step.

In the fourth hour, when Michelangelo finally asks the dreaded question - _how much farther?_ - Splinter calls a halt.

His sons collapse exactly where they are, Leonardo not even caring that he's half-submerged in rainwater from the afternoon's storm.

"How much farther?" Michelangelo asks again, after they've rested for a while.

Splinter leans back against the tunnel wall. "I think we are halfway."

"_Half!_" the three Turtles shout.

"I said it was far," Splinter reminds them.

"I'm tired," Michelangelo says. "I wanna go back."

"We can't go back," Donatello says. "We gotta go forward. It's - it's the same distance anyway."

"It is not," Michelangelo says.

"It is too," Donatello says. "That's what _half_ means."

"Come," Splinter says, before this can devolve into an argument about math skills, or yet another instance of Michelangelo becoming the target of his brothers' misdirected frustrations. "We must continue."

His sons get up, although not without much complaining.

They trudge on.

* * *

In the sixth hour, they halt again. Michelangelo and Donatello slide to the ground, leaning against each other, their earlier quarrel forgotten in the camaraderie of mutual suffering. Leonardo, though, goes a few paces further, to where the tunnel abruptly ends, as though the earth, and the tunnel with it, have been cut away.

Splinter goes and stands beside him, his hand on Leonardo's shoulder, looking out with him.

"Are we lost?" Leonardo asks.

"No," Splinter says. "We must cross it."

"Cross what?" Michelangelo asks. When no one answers, his curiosity quickly overwhelms his fatigue, and he gets up to see. Donatello, not wanting to be the last to know, follows a half-step behind.

"Whoa," Michelangelo says.

"Oh," Donatello says faintly. "Raphie is over _there_?"

Just below them, the Harlem River laps at a narrow stretch of dirt. On the other side, a completely different part of the city, a part they have never been to.

"Yes," Splinter says. "When you are rested, we will go."

The three Turtles sit on the lip of the tunnel, their feet dangling just short of the ground. Splinter sits too, his toes in the wet sand. The sky is dark behind the clearing clouds.

"I'm ready," Michelangelo says, after a while.

"Me too," says Donatello.

Leonardo just looks at his father wordlessly, waiting for him to go first.

Splinter rises and wades forward into the water, until it becomes too deep to walk. Then he crouches and pushes off from the mud with his powerful legs, launching himself across the gentle current.

His robe is instantly saturated, and it pulls him down, but he's a strong swimmer. He keeps his nose above water and makes steady progress.

He feels his sons coming behind him, catching up easily and then holding back so as not to leave him behind. They swim with just their heads above the surface, completely in their element. He keeps his eyes on them anyway - they're tired, and being amphibious doesn't mean they can't drown.

The crossing takes less than a quarter of an hour. Splinter slows, swings his feet down, finds the bottom and sloshes up onto the thin strip of beach. He takes his time wringing the water out of his robe, and his sons pretend not to notice that the long pause is for their own benefit.

When Splinter judges that his sons are ready to move on, he makes a big show of squeezing a few more drops out of his sleeve. Then he simply turns away from the river and begins walking.

They go underground again at the first manhole cover. Dawn is only a few hours away, and Splinter keeps a close watch on himself, setting a reasonable pace and making his sons keep up, resisting the instinct to travel at the same speed as the majority of the pack.

"How much farther?" Michelangelo asks again.

"Not far," Splinter says, though he really isn't sure now. He doesn't know these sewers. His only plan is to keep walking north, and then follow the smell of animals.

He hopes, for the sake of all of his sons, that he will smell it soon.

* * *

In the eighth hour they rest again. Splinter goes a short distance down the neighboring tunnels, climbing up to the grates and sniffing the air.

_There._

He hurries back to his sons. "We are very close," he says.

They jump up instantly, their energy restored by the promise of reaching their goal. He leads them down the eastward tunnel, concentrating intently on following the scent trail. "Very, very close," he murmurs.

Within half an hour the smell becomes overpowering, a cacophony of disparate animals living in unnaturally close quarters. Splinter climbs the nearest ladder, pushes aside the manhole cover, and emerges onto a path roofed by purposeful vegetation. His sons come after him, wearily, and sit on the pavement while he replaces the heavy lid.

He faces into the wind and sniffs, focusing his mind, trying to sort out the olfactory clutter and find the one scent that matters.

_This way._

He barely even looks to make sure his sons are following. He walks down the slope, as if in a trance, as if pulled onward by a chemical cable.

_Here. He is here._

A building, set apart from the exhibits and conveniences offered to zoo visitors. Splinter doesn't even remember climbing over the fence marked DO NOT ENTER, doesn't notice his sons scrambling to follow him.

Michelangelo's small voice. "Are we there yet?"

Splinter tears his eyes away from the building, looks down. "Yes. We are here." He moves to the side of the path and lifts the low-hanging branches of a sprawling bush, so his sons can crawl underneath. "Remain hidden," he says softly, and moves silently to the building.

Raphael's scent is very strong now, fresh and _alive_. Splinter follows it with all speed, leaping up wooden stairs along a high wall, and throwing himself onto the netting that covers the enclosed area. Raphael is here! He draws his small dagger and slices at the netting, but it quickly becomes apparent that this is something stronger than rope, and it will not yield to his blade.

"Raphael!" he calls. He is so close, and will not fail again. "Raphael!"

* * *

Raphael dreams of his father again.

Splinter is standing over him, larger than life, asking strange questions.

"Who are you?"

"Raphael, Father. I'm Raphael."

"_Where_ are you?"

Raph tries to answer, but he can't. The words in his head are small and skittering. He can't grasp them with tongue and teeth, can't blow them into bubbles that will drift and pop on his father's ears.

"Where are you, Raphael? Where do you come from, where are you going?"

Splinter is shrinking. No – getting farther away.

"You must answer me, Raphael. Raphael?"

Raph wakes.

"Raphael!"

His father is here!

* * *

"Raphael!" Splinter calls again. _Why is he not coming? Is there some other barrier holding him back? Why does he not answer me?_

Splinter is about to try his dagger again, when Raphael comes running out into the yard. He looks up, and Splinter's heart leaps. His son is all right. In an instant Raphael has scaled the wall and hung himself from the underside of the netting.

Splinter sheathes his dagger and reaches through to hug his son, not caring that the not-rope tears at his fur and scratches his face. "Raphael. I am here. I am going to help you."

"I couldn't get out," Raphael whimpers against him. "I tried, Sensei, but I couldn't get out."

"Shh, Raphael." Splinter rubs his son's back as best he can. "I cannot cut through this. Is there another exit?"

"Only the one the humans use," Raphael says, "and that goes inside the building."

"I will try to find a way inside," Splinter says, withdrawing his arms and climbing backwards to the wooden platform. "I am coming."

"Hurry, Sensei," Raphael urges him. "The humans come early."

"I will not be long," Splinter promises. He leaps down the stairs and begins making his way quickly and methodically around the building. Every door, window, and air duct is securely locked. A search over the roof yields other covered enclosures, like the one Raphael is caged in, but they are all equally impenetrable.

He returns to Raphael's prison. His son is sitting on the ground, waiting for him. "Raphael - I cannot find a way in. I -"

"Don't leave me!" Raphael cries.

"I will _not_ leave you," Splinter says fiercely. "I will let the humans take me, and we will escape together from the inside." He glances up. The sun is beginning to rise. "Be strong, Raphael. I will be with you soon." He waits for Raphael's brave nod, then climbs down. He checks on his other sons - utterly worn out, already asleep - then stations himself by what appears to be the front door, not far from their hiding place.

If he cannot go home with all of his sons, he will not go home at all.

* * *

Dennis Dixter has just spent a very long shift taking care of the zoo's nocturnal denizens, and is on his way back to the staff building to change his clothes and clock out, when he sees something that's going to make his night even longer.

He unclips his walkie-talkie from his belt and raises it to his mouth. "Security, we've got an escaped kangaroo at the research building."

"I wish to be taken prisoner," says the kangaroo.

Dennis presses the TALK button again. "10-91, we've got a _talking_ kangaroo at the research building."

"I demand to be taken inside this building," Splinter says. He can hear his sons moving, awake now, and can only hope that they will obey his orders, and not put themselves in any more danger than he's putting them in already.

"Okay, buddy," says Dennis. "You stay right there."

"I have no intention of moving," the kangaroo says calmly.

Six security guards converge on the scene. Splinter automatically sizes them up. All bigger than him, though not all especially large for humans. All probably trained fighters, and all carrying weapons. "I demand that I and my sons be taken inside this building," he says again. "Boys -"

Dennis's eyes widen. Three more of those giant turtle-creatures are creeping out from under a bush, and going to stand beside the kangaroo. "What the holy hell -"

The guards draw their guns. Splinter tenses, but he sees that he can't disarm all of them without putting his sons in the line of fire. He moves slightly to shield them with his body, and they shrink back behind him. "I surrender," he says.

"Open the door," one of the guards orders another. The second guard goes warily around to Splinter's left, not taking his eyes off him, and keys in the security code. "Move," the first guard commands.

Splinter turns, so that his sons are now in front of him, and ushers them into the building. As he herds them, so is he herded by the guards coming behind him. He makes no sudden moves, only walks steadily down the white hallway.

"Put them with the other one," says the man in the brown uniform.

"_What_ other one?" a guard asks, with something like panic in his voice.

"Make a right."

Splinter does, going wide around the corner so the humans won't lose sight of him behind the angle of the wall. _Nothing that will make them nervous. Nothing that will make them shoot._

"Stop."

He doesn't even have to pass on the command to his sons. They freeze exactly where they are, exactly the way they are trained to do in the dojo when someone says _yield_.

"This one."

A guard comes forward and opens the door to their right. "Go in."

"Go," Splinter says softly, and his sons obey without question. He enters behind them. The door slams, almost on his tail, and a fraction of a second later his arms are full of Raphael.

"My son," Splinter says. His nose is finally, _finally_, full of the scent he has been missing for so many days. "My son." Although he doesn't want to, he slackens his grip just a little, so he can look at the Turtle clinging to his chest. "Are you hurt?"

Raphael shakes his head vehemently. "Nuh-uh. I didn't let them." He frowns. "I was lonely, though." He hugs Splinter again, then hops down, turning to his brothers and touching each of them to reassure himself that they are really present. "You guys came to rescue me?"

"Yeah," Leonardo says. "But…" He looks around at the concrete walls. "I don't think we're doin' it right."

"It's okay," Raphael says. "Master Splinter will think of somethin'." He turns back to his father. "I knew you would come. You got my rat, right?"

"Your... ?" Splinter's brow furrows in confusion.

"I sent a rat," Raphael explains. "I helped it escape, but first I made it promise to find you and tell you where I was." His face collapses. "I _thought_ it promised..."

"That was very bravely done," Splinter praises him. "But I am afraid your rat did not find me."

"Then how did you know where I was?"

Splinter kneels down and puts his hand on Raphael's shoulder. "Your picture was in the newspaper." By Raphael's reaction, Splinter knows that he understands the gravity of the situation. His other sons sense the shift in the conversation, and come closer. "I fear that our secrecy, and our freedom, are at an end," Splinter says. "But we are still together, and _that_ is what matters."

The four Turtles nod their assent.

"I missed you," Michelangelo says in a small voice.

"Aw, I missed you too," Raphael says, with the utmost generosity.

"Your brothers have walked a long way to find you," Splinter says, looking pointedly at his tired sons. "They should rest now."

"They can use my hanging bed-thing," Raphael says, pointing at a hammock.

"Go to bed?" Donatello says uncertainly. "Here? Now?"

"You must recover your energy before we try to escape," Splinter says. "Otherwise we will be too slow, and we will only be captured again. Rest now, and when you wake up, I will have a plan."

"You should rest too," Leonardo says. "You walked as much as we did."

Splinter smiles at him. "I am all right. I will rest later, when we are safe." He stands up, leading the way to the hammock and helping his exhausted children climb into it. He kisses each of them on the forehead, and bids them good night, before returning to sit next to Raphael. "Now," he says. "Tell me what you have learned about this place."

"Not much." Raphael hangs his head. "If I had, I would have escaped by now."

"Raphael." He waits for his son to look at him. "Do not be so hard on yourself. You fought back. You sent a message. You did not let them hurt you."

"My message didn't even get to you." Raphael fidgets with his toes. "I had a back-up plan, though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Raphael tucks his feet under him and sits more respectfully. "A guy came yesterday, and I talked him into helping me. He said he would come back today and make the humans let me go." He frowns. "I wanted _you_ to rescue me, though."

"You were right to trust me first," Splinter says, forcing back visions of even worse places this strange visitor might have taken Raphael to. "Who was this person?"

"His name is Mr. Mortu," Raphael says. "He knows Master Yoshi."

Splinter's eyes narrow. His Master had friends, yes, but also enemies. "How?" he asks. "When?"

Raphael shrugs. "He wouldn't say."

Splinter has a powerful urge to meet this man, and an equally strong desire not to place his family's safety in the hands of a stranger. Mr. Mortu could be an ally, a link to his past, or a threat, seeking to utterly destroy Yoshi's clan.

Splinter stands up. "Walk with me," he says. Raphael follows him out into the yard, and in the early morning light they go over every inch of the space, searching for a way out.

And, as he searches, he listens, ready to rush back inside if any human should come near his sleeping sons.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

A song that she used to like, but now hates, is playing from somewhere in the dark.

Emily Thacker fumbles for her cell phone, making a mental note to change the ring, and manages to hit the right button. "Hello?"

"Dr. Thacker? It's Erin. The night tech?"

"What is it?" Emily mumbles, in what is probably not a very professional tone.

"You need to come down here right away."

She glances at her alarm clock. It won't go off for another thirty minutes. "What's going on?"

A long pause. "Your special project?" Erin says tentatively. "There's more of them."

"_What?_" She's upright immediately, throwing off the covers and slamming her feet against the floor. "Where did they -" She finds the closet by feel, starts pulling clothes off hangers, realizes the difficulty of getting dressed while holding a phone against her ear. "No, never mind. I'm on my way."

She hits the other button, throws the phone at the bed, misses. Sixty seconds later she grabs it from the floor, picking up her shoes in the same move. Another sixty seconds and she's out the door, car keys in hand.

_What else is Dr. Wright not telling us?_

* * *

Thirty minutes later, as Emily parks her car, she wonders whether she remembered to turn off her alarm.

Then the thought is gone. Erin is coming out to meet her, looking worried and confused. "There's four of them," she says, without any prompting. "And a... kangaroo."

"A kangaroo?" Emily says blankly.

"It talks."

Somehow, she is not surprised.

"Who else knows?" Emily asks, as they walk very quickly into the building.

"Dennis. Some security guards." They turn a corner towards the gorilla enclosure, not even detouring to Emily's office first. "Dr. Noyes is on his way." They reach the door. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

Emily pauses with her hand on the doorknob. "Are they dangerous?"

There's no window in this door, but Erin glances nervously at it anyway. "Who knows?"

Emily tightens her grip, just a little. "I think I'll be okay."

She takes a breath.

She goes in.

Three of the turtle-creatures, each wearing a different-colored head-scarf, are curled up together in the hammock, sleeping peacefully.

"Oh my goodness," Emily breathes, and moves towards them with slow steps.

She hasn't gotten two paces before a ... kangaroo ... is blocking her path.

"Do not come any closer," says the kangaroo.

At that moment, confronted by this - being - that is absolutely opposite to everything that should be true, all of her intelligence, her education, declare that they can't work under these conditions, and they pack up their bags and leave.

Mostly they ooze out through her ears, but one bit of information exits by a different route, and comes spilling from her mouth.

"You're not a kangaroo," she says. "You're a rat. A really, really big, talking, rat. That's wearing a bathrobe."

The giant rat looks at her coldly. (As scrambled as her wits are, she's been working with rats too long not to recognize when one is giving her the evil eye.) "And who are you?"

"Thacker," she says, more or less on automatic. "Emily Thacker." She makes a valiant effort to gather up her unimploded brain cells. "I'm in charge here."

"Then I must ask what you intend to do with us," says the giant rat.

"I - don't know..." she says faintly, and looks at her bizarre charges. The rat is watching her, seemingly waiting for her decision. Raphael has appeared and stationed himself beside the rat, also watching her expectantly. The other three turtle-creatures have woken up, and are lying side-by-side on their stomachs, their eyes fixed on her. "I -"

She has no idea what she's going to say next. Still, she's not entirely relieved when Noyes comes bursting into the room, red-faced and slamming the door behind him.

"_What_ is going on here?" he demands, glaring around at them all.

"I can explain," Emily blurts, and then tries to glare at her mouth for writing checks her brain can't cash. She backtracks. "Actually, I can't, but –"

"Perhaps I can," says the giant rat. "I have surrendered myself as your prisoner. Miss Thacker was about to inform me of what she intends to do next."

Noyes stares at the giant rat. Then he turns to Emily and says in his calmest, most professional voice: "Dr. Thacker, may I speak with you for a moment in the hallway?"

They exit, opening the door as little as possible and edging through sideways.

"_What_ is going on?" Noyes asks again.

"Well," Emily says, trying to convince either of them that she knows the answer to that question, "as you can see, we now have four turtle-creatures and a giant talking rat in the old gorilla enclosure, and -"

Noyes raises a hand to stop her. For a moment he doesn't speak, as he apparently considers what question he most wants to ask, and what question he is most likely to get a coherent answer to. Finally, he says: "_Where did they come from?_"

"I don't know?" Emily offers.

Noyes rubs his forehead, then checks his watch. "Okay. Wright is coming in five minutes and I am sure he is going to spin me some story about how _all_ of those animals are his 'special projects'. So there is just one question I need you to answer for me." He looks at her steadily, and Emily hopes she's doing half as good a job of pretending not to be in a total panic. "Why did you decide to call the first one 'Raphael'?"

Her stomach sinks. "Because - he told me that was his name?"

"Who did?"

She swallows hard. "_He_ did."

"The big talking turtle told you his name."

"Yes."

Noyes looks like he wants to seriously chew her out, but is making a gold-medal effort to restrain the impulse. "Dr. Thacker," he says, "I want you to go to your office and not leave it. We are going to talk about this later." He turns to the two security guards still standing in the hall. "No one goes in," he says, flicking his hand towards the door. He casts one more glance at Emily, shakes his head, and strides off towards the front of the building.

Emily looks at the guards out of the corner of her eye. They're pretending to have not heard anything except the last comment. She reaches up to straighten her lab coat, remembers she's not wearing it, and walks away with as much dignity as she can muster.

Which isn't very much.

* * *

Mr. Mortu arrives at the Bronx Zoo's research building with a portfolio full of carefully-fabricated documents. Procedural write-ups. Fake photographs. 'Excerpts' from daily observation logs. Even Raphael's actual DNA chart, copied from the zoo's secure server and printed on TGRI watermark.

Dr. Noyes is waiting for him, his arms crossed. Mortu approaches with his hand extended, after the fashion of human greeting, but Noyes doesn't move to take it.

"Dr. Wright," he says, without preamble. "Would you care to tell me how many of these genetically-engineered turtles you had, or misplaced?"

"Excuse me?" Mortu says.

"Please answer the question," Noyes says, shifting his stance slightly. "Your reply will remain confidential."

Mortu rapidly processes the possible reasons why Dr. Noyes would be asking him this, and the optimal response to each situation. "I can't understand how they've been escaping," he says. "Do you know if they are safe? All four of them?"

"We have them," Noyes says. "Just out of curiosity, what are the names of the other three?"

Mortu doesn't know. If the Turtles have already told Noyes their names, and he gives a different answer... could he pass it off as three of his experiments being dim-witted?

He hesitates a little too long.

"Well," says Noyes, "I'm sure you have at least brought documentation for all of them."

There's no way the portfolio could be passed off as evidence of more than one genetically-engineered turtle. _Careless!_ He should have brought extra papers, just in case, kept them hidden in his jacket...

He makes a show of flipping through the portfolio, as if looking for something that might be there. "I'm sorry," he says, "I came in such a hurry, I must have left them behind..."

"I think you should leave now," Noyes says, "and come back when you can prove these animals are yours. Preferably with information you didn't read in the newspaper, or steal from our computers."

Mortu snaps the portfolio shut, and acts insulted. "Are you accusing me of something, Dr. Noyes?"

"Not at all," Noyes says smoothly. "I am merely observing that all the information you have shared with me so far has been information that I already had. I will be delighted to hear something new about these animals."

"And you shall," Mortu says. "But as I am already here, would it be all right if I visited with them for a few minutes?"

"I'm afraid only zoo staff are allowed in the enclosures," Noyes says.

"Then I apologize for wasting your time," Mortu says formally, and allows himself to be shown out.

He walks towards the parking lot, as though he had come in a car. As soon as he's out of sight of the building, he activates the communicator inside his robot suit. "Skegg," he says. "Bring me back."

Seconds later he is stepping down from the gleaming metal platform of the transmat. "Scan that building," he orders his assistant. "Find a room with four life forms. Lock on to them, but _do not teleport_."

"Several possibilities, sir," Skegg says a moment later.

Mortu leans over the console. On the screen are groupings of blurry forms. None of them look like four Raphaels. _They are not alone._ "Scan for rooms with _more_ than four life forms."

_This is rash and foolish, Mortu._ He ignores the thought. It _might_ still be possible to convince the humans that his claim is legitimate, but it would take too long, and in the meantime there would be too much investigation into the strange talking animals and the institution apparently responsible for creating them. Much better for the animals to simply disappear, and for TGRI to be known as the refuge of lying crackpots, rather than as the engineers of genetic monstrosities. They will simply deny any connection beyond opportunistic greed.

At least, so he tells himself as he watches the screen fill with new images.

This time there are many groupings. One appears to be a human and nineteen small animals. Another looks like four Raphaels and one of something else - something not human.

Mortu points to the latter. "That one. Bring them here."

Skegg activates the controls.

* * *

Emily sits in her office, watching her rats and wondering if she still has a job.

She's just about made up her mind to save face by quitting before she can be fired, when Noyes comes in, trailing a sober-faced Anne. They take seats.

"So," Noyes begins. "Would someone care to tell me why I got a phone call this morning, telling me that a talking kangaroo had shown up with three more of the turtle-creatures, and had demanded to be taken inside this building?"

"Well," Emily says, "He's not a kangaroo -"

"Obviously not," says Noyes. "Because _kangaroos don't talk_." He calms himself. "I may not be the cognition expert here, but is it possible that this - whatever-it-is - is very intelligent?"

"Yes," Emily says, because that had been her first thought upon meeting the giant rat.

"Is it also possible," Noyes goes on, "that you may have been grossly mistaken in your estimate of Raphael's intelligence?"

"It's possible," Emily says, although this may not be the best thing to admit if she wants to still be employed tomorrow.

Noyes turns to Anne. "Would you care to add anything at this point?"

"When I told you that he talks," Anne says, "I meant like a human. But - I didn't think you would believe me, I thought you would figure it out for yourself..." She looks fearfully at the two doctors. "I think I made a huge mistake."

"I think we all made a huge mistake," Emily says, even if it only digs her deeper in a hole.

"I think we had better go talk to those -" Noyes says, and leaves it at that, unsure what word to use.

They all get up and go to the old gorilla enclosure.

But it's empty.


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue – The Outer Ring**

Splinter is on guard even before the peculiar bubbling feeling has entirely gone away, squinting into the glare and opening his stance to protect his sons.

"Are you Hamato Splinter?" asks a blurry figure.

He blinks, and his vision clears. There is a man in front of him, tall, wearing a suit. Something about him feels wrong.

Raphael tugs on his robe. "It's Mr. Mortu," he whispers.

"I am," Splinter says, watching tensely to see how the stranger will react.

The response is unexpected. Mr. Mortu bows deeply and addresses the floor. "Welcome, honored guests." He straightens. "I am Mr. Mortu. I apologize for the - abrupt manner in which you were brought here." He gestures to a doorway. "Please. We will be more comfortable in the other room."

Splinter moves cautiously down the three wide steps, letting Mr. Mortu precede him through the door. The next room contains a large table surrounded by a dozen comfortable-looking chairs.

"I will explain everything," Mr. Mortu says, while Splinter scans the room. "Please, be seated."

The four Turtles climb up into chairs. A moment later another person enters the room and lays heaping plates of food in front of each of them.

"Thank you, Mr. Skegg," says Mr. Mortu. The other man nods and silently leaves.

Leonardo pokes at his food. "Can we eat it, Sensei?"

Mr. Mortu doesn't say a word as Splinter sniffs each plate, checking for traces of poison. "Yes, my sons. You may eat." He takes a chair for himself and turns to their host. "Now. Who are you, and how do you know my Master Yoshi?"

"It is a long story," Mr. Mortu says, and he commences to tell it. He begins by peeling off his skin. ("Oh, gross!" exclaims Michelangelo, but it doesn't stop him from eating everything on his plate.) He continues with a tale of spaceships, prisoners, and brave warriors known as Guardians. He finishes by recounting how a pet rat, four baby turtles, and a canister of green ooze came to be in the sewers of New York City.

At the end of the story, Splinter has a great amount of trust in Mr. Mortu, and an even higher opinion of his Master Yoshi.

"I was then assigned to locate the individuals affected by the transmat run-off," Mortu concludes, "which I have now done. All that remains is for me to render you whatever assistance you require." He leans forward. "What would you like me to do for you?"

"I would like to go home," Splinter says.

Mortu looks disappointed. "Is that all?"

Splinter tenses slightly. "Will you not let us go?"

Mortu glances at the four Turtles, half-asleep from the long story and their heavy meals. "May I speak with you in private?"

Splinter rises, and they go to stand just outside the door of the room.

"I would like to make you an offer," Mortu says in a low voice. "If you wish, I can arrange for you to be transported to my homeworld. We are an advanced, civilized people. We do not have the prejudices of humans. You would have the same rights as any other citizen."

Splinter narrows his eyes. Mortu may be one of the people Master Yoshi willingly gave his life to protect, but being sent to another planet, with no way of leaving under his own power, feels too much like a trap. "Is this an offer, or an order?"

"I am not coercing you," Mortu says. "If you wish, you may return to your old life in New York, and make your home where you will. Or, if you prefer, I can give you a new life in a place where you will be respected, and free, and safe."

"And what about my sons?" Splinter asks.

"Yes," Mortu says. "_All_ of you."

Splinter flicks his gaze through the doorway. "I must think about it."

Mortu nods. "Of course. Take your time."

And then he simply walks away.

* * *

Splinter paces the room for a long time, thinking over Mortu's proposal.

If Mortu is honest, if Utrom society is what he says it is, then this could be the freedom and security he has always wanted for his sons. They would not need to live underground, or eat garbage, or hide. They would never need to fight for their lives.

On the other hand, if Mortu is lying, Splinter will find himself in a world where his existence is known, and where he does not even have a relatively safe burrow and a painstakingly-accumulated knowledge of where to find food.

Of course, Raphael's existence is now known in this world, and his home may not be safe for long.

Still, even if the Utrom homeworld is everything Mortu has promised, can he really give up Earth? Can he leave the planet where his Master Yoshi lived and died, the world that is his sons' birthright, even if they are never able to enjoy more than a tiny part of it?

If he agreed to go, and regretted his choice once there, would the Utroms let him go back?

He paces, and thinks.

* * *

The four Turtles sit in the chairs (too big, but padded just right), holding their stomachs and trying not to throw up from overeating.

"Hey," says Raph, to distract himself from the seething rebellion in his guts. He sticks out his foot and weakly kicks at Donnie's chair. "I beat your record. I held my breath a whole twelve minutes."

"You did not," Donnie says.

"I did too!"

"Did anyone see you?" Donnie challenges.

"Well, no..." Raph admits.

"Then it doesn't count," Donnie says firmly. "Show me, and then I'll believe you."

"You know," Raph says wisely. "You don't gotta see everything yourself. Sometimes you should just believe what people tell you."

Donnie reflects on this for a while. "I'm sorry I lost you," he says quietly.

"It's okay," says Raph. "You found me again. That's what matters."

"We're glad you're okay," Leo says.

"Me too," Raph says. "I mean, that you're okay."

"Are we gonna go home soon?" Mikey asks sleepily.

"Yeah, Mikey," Raph says. Some little worry is niggling at him, but he's too full, and too tired, to think about it now. "Real soon."

* * *

Raphael wakes up when someone touches his arm. Master Splinter beckons to him, and he silently slides down from his chair and follows his father out of the room.

Splinter sits on the floor, near the metal platform, and Raph sits too. "Are we goin' home, Sensei?" Raph asks.

Splinter looks down for a moment, then raises his eyes. "Raphael," he says heavily. "I am not sure we are going home."

Raph frowns. "Why?"

"I am not sure it is safe." Splinter fixes Raphael with a penetrating gaze. "Raphael - Who found you? How were you captured?"

Raph's heart freezes. So far everyone has just been happy to have him back, but now comes the part where he's in major trouble. "I'm sorry, Sensei," he says, in a small voice. "I was curious."

Splinter frowns. "I do not understand. Curious about what?"

"About... about _everything_," Raphael admits. "I wanted to know what people were like. So I... I went looking for some."

"Oh, Raphael," Splinter says softly, but Raph keeps going.

"I just wanted to find one nice human, but all of them were mean to me, asking me weird questions, and then they had the sleep-daggers, and they put me in a _cage_..." He wipes his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sensei. You were right about everything. Do I... do I gotta do a million flips now?"

Splinter reaches out and gathers Raphael into his arms. "No, my son. You do not have to do any."

Raph can't quite believe this. "Do I gotta do them _later_?"

"No," Splinter says, rubbing his back soothingly. "Never. I will never punish you for wanting... for wanting more than we have had."

"I'm never gonna do it again," Raph promises. "'Cause... 'cause we got enough." He remembers the earlier part of the conversation, and scoots backwards out of his father's arms. "We got a place to go, right? The humans aren't gonna get us again?"

"No," Splinter assures him. "We have a place to go. A place where you will have much more room to explore."

Raph furrows his brows. "Like... Japan? Is that bigger than New York?"

Splinter smiles sadly. "Even better than Japan." He rises. "Go and wake your brothers."

Raph pads back into the other room, wondering what his father might think is better than Japan.

* * *

Splinter finds Mr. Mortu in a room down the hall.

"I have made my decision," he says, when the Utrom looks at him expectantly. "I and my sons will go to your homeworld. If you are deceiving us, we will at least be the prisoners of Utroms, and not of humans, and so I will not have to wonder how my captors could belong to the same species as my noble Master."

"I promise you," Mortu says, "this is not a trick."

Splinter nods slightly. "You understand that it is difficult for me to trust."

"I understand," Mortu says. "You have had few allies, and you have seen your Master cruelly betrayed." He looks away, then back. "Did you actually see... ?"

"Yes," says Splinter. "If you have encountered my Master's murderer, you have seen my mark on his face."

"I am sorry to say I have not," Mortu says. He rises from his chair. "Do you wish to visit your home, before you depart?"

"No," says Splinter. "There is nothing we need."

"Very well," says Mortu, moving towards the door. "I will have Mr. Skegg prepare the transmat."

"What about you?" Splinter asks, and Mortu pauses. "What will you do, now that your assignment is finished?"

"I expect to join you shortly," Mortu replies. "I - have been forbidden to leave this planet until I completed my assignment." He turns, and smiles. "I am looking forward to going home."

* * *

When Splinter returns to the room with the big table, his sons are awake and waiting for him.

"Where are we going?" Michelangelo asks, as soon as he enters.

Splinter sits slowly in one of the chairs. "We are going to a new place," he says. "It will be very different from our old home."

"Will it be like where Raphie was?" Leonardo asks. "'Cause I didn't like it there."

"No," Splinter says, and he hopes he is telling the truth. "It will not be like that."

"What _will_ it be like?" Donatello asks.

"It will be safe," Splinter says. "We will be able to walk in the streets, and live in a real house, and eat as much food as we want, all the time." His sons look a little sick at the idea. "You will be able to play with other children."

His sons glance at each other. They have never needed any other playmates, and Splinter wonders if, by gaining friends, they will lose something else.

"But... what about the humans?" Raphael asks.

"There are no humans," Splinter explains. "There are only people like Mr. Mortu, and they do not mind that we are different."

Michelangelo makes a face. "They're not gonna take their skin off all the time, are they?"

Splinter smiles at him. "I do not think so."

Michelangelo shrugs. "'Kay."

Splinter looks at his other sons, wordlessly asking for their approval.

"And we won't get lost?" Donatello asks.

"You might get lost," Splinter says honestly, even though it makes Donatello's eyes widen with fear. "But it will be the kind of lost where you can trust a stranger to point you home again, and then you will tell me what new things you saw."

"Will we be allowed to go to the grate?" Leonardo asks, while Donatello thinks about this.

"There will not be a grate," Splinter says. "You will have the sun. All of it, with nothing in the way."

Leonardo looks at him, torn between believing impossible things, and thinking his father a liar.

"But Sensei," says Raphael, who has been listening pensively. "I said I wasn't gonna go lookin' for stuff anymore. I'm happy with what we have."

"But I am not," says Splinter, and all his sons look at him in surprise. "I want more for you. I want you to grow up in a place where you _can_ look for things, and make discoveries, and learn who you really are." He looks hard at his sons, willing them to understand that his mind can still be changed, and that he is seeking not just their acceptance, but their agreement. "Is this what you want for yourselves?"

Something strange passes over Raphael's face. "I want to know who I am," he says softly.

His brothers just look confused, and Splinter grieves for his sons who have not even had enough space to ask the question. "Is this what you want?" he asks again.

"If you wanna go, then I wanna go," Leonardo says.

"I wanna go too," Michelangelo adds quickly.

"We're all gonna go, right?" Donatello asks. "'Cause it doesn't matter where we are, as long as we're all together."

Splinter closes his eyes. His sons had learned to listen, to obey. And soon they would have room to ignore, to challenge, to ferret out their father's mistakes and find a larger truth.

He hopes that the learning will be less painful than what Raphael has gone through, and that the answers will not hurt as much.

"Yes, my sons," he says. "Yes, that is exactly right."

At that moment, Mr. Mortu appears in the doorway. "Whenever you are ready," he says.

Splinter opens his eyes. "We are ready."

* * *

Splinter stands before the three wide steps, his sons gathered around him.

"I have alerted my counterparts that you are coming," Mr. Mortu says. "They are already preparing a place for you." He gestures to the platform. "Whenever you are ready."

Splinter leads his sons up to the gleaming dais, and turns back to face the center of the room. He centers himself for the journey, and a thought comes to his mind.

"Mortu-san..." he says, as Mortu moves to the control panel. "Were you the driver of the truck?"

Mr. Mortu bows the head of his robotic body. "I am sorry."

"Do not be," Splinter says. "It is the third-greatest gift I have ever received."

"What is the first-greatest?" Mortu asks.

"My sons," Splinter replies, without hesitation.

"And the second-greatest?"

"My Master Yoshi."

Mortu nods. "Yoshi was a great gift to us as well. It is in his memory that we do this for you."

"Thank you," says Splinter. "For everything." He straightens slightly. "We are ready."

Mortu turns a dial. The sound of the machinery rises into a concordant hum. The glow from the ceiling intensifies, focuses.

Splinter puts his arms around his sons, and they raise their faces to the light.

End


End file.
